


Collateral

by crystalrequiem



Category: Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicle
Genre: Crime AU, Gambling, Graphic Injury, Hitmen, Light Voyeurism, M/M, Mild torture, Murder, Organized Crime, cameos from many other CLAMP characters, mild-moderate injury, non-magic au, questionable morality
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-24
Updated: 2018-04-18
Packaged: 2019-03-23 05:46:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13780983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crystalrequiem/pseuds/crystalrequiem
Summary: Kurogane, a competent hitman for Yuuko’s organization has been tasked to eliminate Ashura of the gambling hall Celes. Unfortunately, some blond dealer from the gambling floor keeps getting in his way. He’ll have to find a way around, one way or another.





	1. Neither a Borrower nor a Lender

**Author's Note:**

> Moving this fic over from Tumblr now that I have a decent bit written for it. 
> 
> This fic was inspired by the Lovely Loka. <3 All she asked for was a spot of voyeurism and flirting, and I'm afraid I spiraled rather out of control trying to get to it...
> 
> Hilariously, this AU could technically be considered an AR of the Part-time Accomplice AU... though there's absolutely no need to read PTAL if you haven't already. <3 just a fun bit of trivia.
> 
> This work stretches 4-ish chapters estimated for now. We'll see how it goes.

* * *

 

 

Goddamnit.

Three times.

That absolute _asshole_ of a guard at the _Celes_ has stopped him in his tracks three _fucking_ times now.

It’s a simple enough job, or it should be anyway: infiltrate gambling hall _Celes_ and get rid of its murderous owner. That blasted Ashura made himself a thorn in everyone’s side long ago, killing who he pleases and making the police unnecessarily nervous. Behavior like that hurts everyone in the underworld, costs Yuuko money and harms plenty of innocent people besides. Yuuko waited to see whether anything good at _all_ might be salvaged, but he guesses she didn’t find much.

“Can’t be helped,” she’d told him, sighing as she passed the job and its intel along just last week. “Ashura owes me a few lives. I know I can trust you to collect.” So he’d agreed, bowed, and left.

It _should_ have been simple. Ashura knew well enough just how many enemies he had, so he kept himself holed up in _Celes_. Aside from the occasional appearance in the gambling hall and the seemingly random murders, rumor was, he stayed in his office. Getting to him meant infiltrating the gambling hall, which Kurogane could do easily enough. Yuuko had gotten him the layout after all, through one spy or another. He could either come in as a patron or sneak in unnoticed.

_Except_ , Ashura’s _asshole_ bodyguard has caught him in all three attempts so far.

Kurogane hasn’t been outplayed like this since he first started out. Certainly, no one has ever gotten in his way more than once, let alone three times. He hasn’t faced anyone this capable in… well, a long-ass time. Blondie’d even scored a few hits!

He doesn’t know what the hell is going on. Maybe he’s losing his edge. If this job didn’t need done so badly, he might even _respect_ a guy like that. But as it was…

“Welcome back, Kuroga-ah-ah! You’re bleeding!” Watanuki’s deadpan greeting transforms seamlessly into anxious panic mid-sentence. Kurogane only shifts his hold on the wet fabric wrapped tight around his right arm and levels the kid with a narrow-eyed glare.

_Yes,_ he thinks, _bleeding is what happens when someone catches you with a knife._

_…_ fuckin asshole blond bodyguard with good aim. How was he supposed to know the man could throw so well? Guy only had one eye. Shouldn’t he have depth perception issues?

“I hadn’t noticed,” he deadpans. Watanuki simply scowls in response. Kid’s going to frown himself right into an early grave. “Is Yuuko decent?”

“I’m sure I wouldn’t know.” The high schooler grouches. Watanuki’s cat-like irritation usually amuses Kurogane when it doesn’t annoy him, but he doesn’t have time to dwell on it now. His arm hurts and his pride smarts and he’d just like to get this night over with, _thanks_. Maybe he lets the feeling show a little too easily on his face, because Watanuki pales. “She’s not with a client, at least. If that helps.”

“Good enough.” Kurogane twists the homemade tourniquet tighter and resolutely does _not_ stumble his way through Yuuko’s sprawling halls.

 

* * *

 

Yuuko _is_ decent by the time he steps into her drawing room, or at least as decent as someone like her can be. She’s sprawled inappropriately in her sharp suit and chaise lounge, braiding Maru’s hair while Moro watches. The woman takes one look at him leaning heavily against the doorway and tuts,

“Maru, darling, I’m afraid we’ll have to finish later. Could you two go and call Shuuichirou here for me?” The twins bow out with nary a sound, creepy as usual. He’ll never really understand Yuuko’s urge to take in as many awkward stray children as she can, but he supposes he owes his life to that particular bad habit.

Kurogane shuffles in behind the twins and doesn’t wait for Yuuko’s recognition to slump into the nearest chair. He’s done a decent job keeping himself from bleeding out, he thinks, but that doesn’t mean he’s not exhausted. Yuuko can deal.

“Caught again, Kurogane? That’s not like you.” She muses, drawing herself up to sit at least a little straighter as she takes his appearance in.

He very much agrees, though he’d rather not let her know that. Instead, he recounts the night’s activities in a bored tone, trying to downplay his embarrassment. He pauses briefly when Yuuko’s favorite doctor, Kudou Shuuichirou makes his appearance, but a glance from Yuuko sets him finishing the tale. Kudou stays silent and asks no questions. Kurogane appreciates his professionalism, but he _does_ kind of wish the man would warn him before he starts stitching. 

“Well,” Yuuko muses as his story comes to close. “I’d heard of the blond dealer at _Celes_ , but if I’d known he was such an important player I would have warned you.” She doesn’t need to say as much. Yuuko doesn’t make a habit of putting her people in danger unnecessarily.

“I figured. How do you want me to proceed going forward?” She continues as if she hasn’t heard him for a moment or two, simply pulling long draws from her favorite pipe. Kurogane bears her pageantry and tries to ignore the burning pull of needle and thread against the sore ache of his knife-wound.  If Yuuko could please just get this over with—

“Ashura pays his price in blood. That’s final. You’ll need to find a way to make it so. However…” she leans forward, peering at Kurogane and the gash in his arm with narrowed eyes. “I don’t think I want the dealer dead. He’s obviously a formidable fighter, and I have no quarrel with him in particular. Two deaths would alert the authorities unnecessarily anyway. See if you can’t find another way around him.”

Strangely, her pronouncement makes him feel... relieved? He doesn't fear the idea of facing the guy in a fight again, but the thought of _killing_ him… well maybe he respects an opponent like that after all.

“If I’m buying him off, I’ll need something to go on.”

“Hm,” Yuuko considers, tapping her pipe to shift the tobacco inside.  “I have a suspicion or two about him, but nothing concrete. He doesn’t exist, officially speaking, but that’s hardly a surprise given who he works for. People have a tendency of disappearing around Ashura for more than one reason, after all.” She motions toward the matchbook, as if she means him to light one for her.

Kurogane huffs, tilting his chin meaningfully toward his arm, still very firmly held in place by an ill-tempered Kudou Shuuichirou.

Yuuko frowns down at him. Sighing deeply, she leans forward to reach the matches herself. Her long fingers coax flame forth easily and she reheats her pipe bowl with a pout.

He rolls his eyes to the ceiling. Kurogane may owe her a lot, but she’s trying at the best of times. It’s hardly _his_ fault Kudou decided the damn thing needed stitches. Kurogane hadn’t thought it looked _that_ bad.

_It’s your fault letting your guard down enough to get injured like that in the first place,_ Yuuko’s expression seems to say, brow raised tauntingly.

“Can you wait for me to leave before you do the mind-reading conversation thing? It’s creepy,” Kudou announces, punctuating his annoyance with more force than necessary on the next pull of a stitch. Kurogane grits his teeth and resolutely does not wince.

“Creepier than talking about assassinating local criminals?” Yuuko muses, laughing. The doctor’s hand jerks again and Kurogane only barely restrains his wince this time. Can she _not_ tease the man while he’s got a needle buried in Kurogane’s skin, _thanks_.

“Since I’ve been in my clinic all evening, I’m certain I have no idea what you’re speaking of.” Kudou’s voice rasps, dry as the desert itself. Yuuko’s pipe trails away from her mouth when she laughs, deep and long.

“This is why you’re my favorite, Shuuichirou,” she drawls. Kurogane resists rolling his eyes a second time and stares the woman down. He cares about her. He _really_ does. She’s the closest thing to a mother he and everyone else here has. She’s _also_ a pain in the ass.

“Back to the matter at hand,” he interrupts before Kudou gets a chance to answer.

“Ah, right. Your blond tormentor.” She inhales, exhales smoke, makes him wait a few minutes longer in the silence just for dramatic effect. The woman has far too much fun playing with the people around her. “While Ashura hides like a paranoid fool, blondie runs the gambling floor. Young, attractive, most likely involved with one or two disappearances himself, though nothing can be proven.” Yuuko takes a deep draw of her pipe, lets her eyes fall closed. “I’ve gotten a few petty complaints about him over the years: mostly neighborhood gamblers whining about his fixing games on the house’s behalf. Not my concern or my problem. Certainly no mention of knife throwing!”

Great. Kurogane sighs and resigns himself to the pull of the needle in his arm as he listens to Yuuko laugh. Her information network doesn’t slouch. If she doesn’t even have the guy’s _name_ , let alone any important details, he must be a serious pro.

“Anyway, Shuuichirou,” Yuuko drawls, sitting her pipe aside with a gentle _click_ of finality, “how is our dear Kohaku? The house is so lonely without them.” Kudou jabs his arm forcefully again, and Kurogane tries to figure out just where he went wrong.

 

* * *

 

Don’t kill anyone other than Ashura. Get the blond out of the way.

He doesn’t know how he can manage both, but he has no choice but to try. It annoys the hell out of him that Yuuko can't just assign info gathering and blackmail to one of her usual crew, but they've lost enough personnel to Ashura already. She's not going to risk anyone less capable. 

He waits a day or two before he decides to tail the bodyguard. He can figure everything else out _after_ he has a better grasp of the situation. He only needs to find a way to make that guy take a day off, right? Buy him off, blackmail him, threaten him away… Kurogane will figure something out, he’s sure. He simply needs more intel before he can worry about the next move.

Regular informant or no, he knows well enough how to shadow a target. His more usual line of work affords him that experience, at the very least. He sets about his early morning stakeout of the _Celes_ with a reasonable, if preemptively bored, sense of confidence.

Stalking is neither glamorous nor interesting, but he doesn’t usually have any trouble with it. He spots his quarry locking the doors and ducking out of the gambling hall around five in the morning, looking sufficiently haggard after a long night of work. Kurogane waits for him to cross the street and move a block ahead before he steps out of the shade to trail behind.

Maybe he's overconfident. Maybe he's lost more of his edge than he thought but... he doesn't make it three blocks before Blondie turns on a heel and looks straight his way...

It’s all in his head. It _has_ to be. But he swears that when that blue gaze catches him, the stitches in his arm begin to _burn_.

God. Fucking. damnit.

He avoids indulging the urge to punch the nearest passerby, but only just. How has the bastard spotted him already?! Has he just suddenly become completely incapable overnight, or is Blondie really just _that good_?

Great. Well, he certainly doesn’t know what to do now. He didn’t see Ashura leave last night, so presumably the man’s still inside Celes. _Maybe_ if he backs off now he can double back, break in and try to make the hit, but since the blond menace saw him he can only assume backup would arrive quickly. He doesn't fear the possibility of a good fight, but if Yuuko wants him to limit the body count, he'll have to avoid large scale engagements like that.

Seething, he almost convinces himself that a chance at Ashura (and the end of this job) might be worth the risk of extra casualties. He thinks through the path in his head, trying to recall the best escape routes and break in points from Yuuko's notes. He takes a step back, makes to turn around and—

Catches the stranger's eye again as the blond nods sharply toward a nearby cafe.

It's a challenge—an invitation.

His opponent walks toward the entrance and swings the glass door open wide with seemingly carefree motions. Kurogane tries to weigh the whole thing rationally in his head. The early morning does afford some privacy, but enough workers mill zombie-like down the street to provide a steady flow of witnesses. Anyone smart would recognize that; it’s not really the right time or place to start something. On the other hand, he has no idea what kind of allies this guy might have. Celes didn't run much outside of itself, but Blondie's come with so many surprises already; who was to say he didn't have a few coffee shops on the take?

It’s a terrible idea. If he follows the guy now, he’ll be making a total rookie mistake.

...

Hell, he's fucked this job royally so far. Might as well keep the streak going. Besides, if the blond brings him a fight, he might even owe the guy a thank you. The stitches still smarting in his arm ache for payback. 

Kurogane shifts the fake woodwind case slung across his shoulders and makes certain he can draw his blade quickly. He strides eagerly toward the shop door, frame tense with anticipation. His fingers meet the handle as he sweeps the room behind the glass. Nothing appears out of the ordinary. The mystery blond is standing at the counter, seemingly ordering a drink.

Fuck it, he thinks, and the door swings wide.

 

* * *

 

 

“Fancy meeting you here," the man teases, motioning for him to sit at a table just a little too short for either of them. The furrow in Kurogane’s brow digs deeper. He could play along, but that’s never been his style.

He takes the offered seat, tilts his “instrument case” forward for easy access.

“You’re the one who invited me, aren’t you?” he deadpans, watching the way pale hands twitch briefly with surprise.

“Ha! I suppose so.” The blond leans back in his chair, bringing his cup to his lips for a long sip. His single, piercing eye never drifts from Kurogane’s unmoving form. “Not going to order anything, then? It’s really no trouble. I could have them bring something over for you.” He sees what his opponent intends and reaches out to halt one pale wrist before the blond can wave to the counter. It’s a signal if he’s ever seen one, and he knows without a doubt now that he’s walked into some kind of trap.

_Thank God_ , he thinks with only the slightest hint of guilt.

“I’m not thirsty.” The glare he earns for himself is brief, but vicious. Kurogane’s heart speeds in his chest, mouth threatening to quirk upwards. He pulls his opponent’s hand forward and down to the table’s surface with gloved fingers. “But I wouldn’t say no to a fight, if that’s what you’re aiming for.”

The blond tears his arm back and away, shoulders shaking with something like a laugh.

“You are absolutely terrible at this,” he announces, and Kurogane shrugs. He’s not wrong. Kurogane doesn’t do this kind of subtle dance—it’s not his forte. He’s a weapon. Yuuko points him in the right direction, and he cuts. Asking him to play spy is just begging for trouble. “Alright then, Mr. Honest, why are you following me?”  He punctuates the question with a snap before Kurogane can stop him, and the store’s employees jump into motion. They finish the only order on the bar, start silently lowering the blinds and flicking the store sign to closed. The last customer bustles out with a nervous glance in their direction.

Kurogane figured the Celes had more going on than Yuuko knew, but this kind of coordinated scramble confirms it. He starts to say something glib, body tense and ready to spring into motion at the first hint of a fight. For all he knows, every employee in the room might have a gun at the ready, just waiting for him to make a move.

“You mean you don’t already know?” Kurogane muses, studying his opponent’s face for something—any kind of hint. The blond’s expression remains as cool and placid as a lake, though his fingers twitch once in irritation.

“Well, I know a few things. I know you work for the witch, for one,” hardly a difficult deduction. The butterfly pin on his lapel gives as much away to anyone who’s ever heard of Yuuko. Troublesome if it shows when he wants to go unnoticed, but useful enough to be worth it. Half the people in this town owe Yuuko one way or another. “You’re armed, terrible at information gathering. You’ve been showing up where you shouldn’t, fought me in the offices the other day, and then tried to follow me.”

Kurogane takes a moment to glance warily around the shop, wondering suddenly whether his opponent intends to use this exposition, make a scene and get him arrested. Unlikely. The last of the workers leaves with a tiny, nervous bow in the blond’s direction, shutting the door behind them. With the shutters down, the tiny shop is transformed to a perfect meeting place, hidden away from prying eyes.

“It’s obvious you want me dead. I just can’t figure out what I’ve done to offend the witch herself.” That’s… odd.

“You think I want to kill you?” Kurogane presses, already feeling like he somehow has the upper hand. Blondie might be a prodigy at knife fighting and he might have more allies than anyone had thought, but he doesn’t understand a damn thing. “You figured we wanted you dead, so you isolated yourself here with me; no witnesses, no backup, and no way to call for help,” blondie simply tilts his head in answer, that blue eye bright with challenge. “You are absolutely terrible at this,” he echoes, deeply satisfied by the annoyance he sees flicker briefly over his enemy’s delicate features.  

“So, I’m not your target then?” Can’t hurt to tell him that. He’ll know soon enough if he leaves here alive, anyway.

“No,” Kurogane admits, increasingly amused. He watches the blond frown, slouching down to hazard another sip of coffee.

For a man convinced an assassin intended to kill him, he really shows very little concern. Is he suicidal, or just arrogant? Kurogane wonders.

“Thievery then. You wanted our business records? Maybe you’re following me now because you think I can be bribed? Or could it be that you intended to get to…” The blond trails away, his expression closing off in time with his voice. Ah. Perhaps he realizes.

“Who can say?” Kurogane barely has the time to tease. Finally, _finally_ , the asshole makes a move.

Hot coffee flies toward his face in a wave as those pale fingers dart for a slim waist. He hadn’t been fast enough to react last time, but he knows better now. He’s been _waiting_ for this. His blood thunders in his ears as he dodges back and away. He’s moving before he makes the conscious decision to do so, slamming his chair sideways and sending it skidding across the floor. His blade slides free from its hidden compartment with a satisfying, familiar sound, catching the first knife just before it can find a home in his chest.

“I owe you for the other night,” he crows. The healing wound in his arm protests every swing as he deflects blade after blade, but it only spurs him on. Twenty stitches and a new damn shirt. He intends to make the bastard pay.

The blond is good, but not good enough without the benefit of surprise. He runs out of thrown weapons soon enough and eventually resorts to fighting up close with a wicked looking knife. An intimidating weapon, but he won’t stand a chance against Kurogane’s blade.

“Who is it,” his opponent hisses, entirely transformed from the laughing, controlled man who’d been seated languidly before him just moments earlier. “Who does the witch want?”

Kurogane knows better than to answer. Honestly though, he doesn’t know if he _could_. Shorter blade or no, the dealer fights like a man _possessed_. He’s entirely different from the joking, carefree thing facing him down in the moonlight of Celes’s offices. Kurogane shouldn’t have any trouble sweeping in and landing a decisive blow, but the blond makes it impossible. He moves like water, _flows_ around Kurogane and his swings, slips under his arms and pulls him in closer so that _Kurogane_ has to keep spinning away. Even if he tries to take advantage of what he knows must be a significant blind spot on the man’s left, he can’t land a hit. It’s frustrating. _Fascinating_.

But… it can’t last forever. When it comes down to the wire, Kurogane just has more experience.

He moves for an overhead strike, anticipating the easy way the enemy fighter catches his blade on the downswing and steps away from it. When the blond pivots to take advantage of the opening Kurogane leaves, he sweeps out with his ankle and kicks the café table _hard_ , landing a solid hit and knocking his opponent to the ground.

“Cheat!” the man wheezes, sounding for just a second like the playful creature Kurogane had met once before. It doesn’t last. His features harden, and he rolls away from the axe kick Kurogane intends to meet with his chest. Even downed, the dealer is a ferocious thing. He rolls like a fool and strikes out at whatever part of Kurogane he can reach, always searching for an opening to stand. He manages to nick the fronts of Kurogane’s shins and tear his pants to ribbons at the ankles. Goddamnit that’s a whole suit the bastard owes him now.

“Lay the fuck still!”  He finds himself growling as he finally, _finally_ manages to press the edge of his steel to his enemy’s gasping throat. He knows better than to let his guard down, even with his opponent seemingly bested, and a good thing too. That eye stares defiantly up, unflinching as he _keeps moving_ , uncaring of the sword biting into his neck. His wrist darts forward, ready to plunge his knife up and into the back of Kurogane’s knee.

A death wish. This asshole has a fucking death wish, Kurogane decides. Acting as quickly as he can, he somehow avoids slicing into the dumbass’s carotid as he shifts all his weight to one leg. Swiveling uncomfortably, he slams his heel down on the man’s wrist with enough force to break it. The blade clatters behind them across the floor as its owner gasps with pain.

Great. He’s finally got the guy at his mercy, but it doesn’t feel like much of a victory. He’d had to fight too hard for it, his shins remind him, smarting and wet with his own blood. Besides, he doesn’t even know what he’s supposed to do now. He’s not _supposed_ to kill the guy.

He bends down, considering. He keeps his left knee firmly on that troublesome right arm, doesn’t let his blade drift too far from his enemy’s sluggishly bleeding neck.

“No way I’m just gonna threaten a guy like you off work, huh?” He thinks out loud to himself, and the dealer laughs. No, probably not. A guy like this, who’d cut his own neck to land a good knife hit? If he wasn’t waiting for death, he was certainly stubborn in the face of it. Well, there’s really only one good way to go from here. He’ll have to try to put the guy out of commission. He can’t threaten him away, but at least he can make the asshole less of a threat in the future. It just… feels kind of cheap.

Well…. The guy’s a card dealer, right? Broke one of his wrists already. Ruining the other hand shouldn’t prove too much a challenge. No reason to make it more painful than it has to be though.

“Next time,” he finds himself chiding, pulling his weapon away and twisting it up towards the ceiling. His quarry starts to struggle as soon as the steel moves more than a few inches from his neck, but Kurogane has all the control here. “don’t underestimate me.” He brings the hilt of his blade down on the man’s temple, _hard_. However surprising his fighting skills, the blond passes out just like any other person.

Kurogane sighs deeply as he sheathes his sword and pushes himself up and away with a sense of loss. He’d had a lot of fun with that fight, up until the end. How much more interesting could it have been if blondie had seen fit to call for backup, or play it cautious?

He rifles through the enemy’s pockets, all too aware that any of the shop’s workers could very well have called the police by now. He keeps the small wallet he finds, collects the thrown daggers and the impressive knife from around the room, rights as many tables and chairs as he can, and then turns back to his fallen foe. He hates this, but…. Business is business.

The man keeps his daggers sharp, Kurogane muses as he drives one all the way through the muscle and bone of the dealer’s left hand, straight into the floor. He wakes briefly to scream, before the pain pulls him back under. Damn. He’d been hoping the concussion would keep him asleep. (Kurogane is an assassin, not a sadist.) He pulls himself back up, collects his coat… and starts toward the back entrance.

He can do this. He can leave the guy here. It’s not his problem.

Except… wasn’t the whole point of not killing anyone supposed to be to limit police presence? When those shopkeepers come back and find the place like this, they’ll call the authorities for certain. Besides, what if he’d fucked up and given the man brain damage or something? He might die anyway and then all of this would be for _nothing_.

_God damn it_ , he repeats on a loop in his head like a mantra, hurrying back to pick up his enemy’s broken form. He reaches over and pulls the dagger back out of that hand, wincing as he listens to another pained moan. Nothing he can do for it now—what’s done is done. He makes certain no hidden weapons remain at the man’s waist and tosses him over one shoulder. He steps out the back entrance and into an ally to the tune of police sirens, cursing all the way.


	2. Asset Secured

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's the end of what I've posted on tumblr! at current rate of completion, a new chapter should make it out by next week.
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy so far~ I'm still kind of figuring out what endgame for the fic looks like, so comments and suggestions highly appreciated at this point.

* * *

 

 

Of course, it’s far too much to hope that any ID in the blond’s wallet might prove valid. He finds no less than four drivers’ licenses and five credit cards, all under four different names and all registered to various addresses. He could try to set an informant out at each one just in case, but he doesn’t see much of a point.

“Okay, let me get this straight,” Kudou grouches for the third time. “You beat the man badly enough he won’t be able to work, and then you brought him to me because…?”

“Well, I didn’t want him _dead_.” He tries to protest. He thumbs through the wallet again, annoyed by his opponent’s lack of consistency. The only element this guy keeps constant among identities is the middle initial “D.” Hardly a name he can investigate. He memorizes all four names though, just in case. “I wound up hitting him pretty hard there at the end, and it’s not like I’m used to trying to keep people alive when I bash them in the skull, so I wasn’t sure. Besides, now that I think of it, I might have broken or at least bruised a rib or two when I threw that table in his chest…”

“Right. Wouldn’t it have been easier for you to drop him off at the hospital?” The doctor protests, but he moves to unbutton the blond’s shirt nonetheless. Blood stains the collar, dyed by the superficial wound at his neck.

_You should just cut the thing off_ , Kurogane thinks vindictively. Bastard owes him a shirt.  Unfortunately, Kudou has no trouble removing the button-down, and he glimpses the swiftly purpling skin painted across the stranger's side. Ouch. Kurogane might feel a little sorrier for it if he didn’t think he might need to come back for stitches in his shins to match his arm later tonight.

"You're kidding, right? Someone like me can't just go to the hospital. The minute I dropped him off, there'd be police looking for me."

"Hasn't stopped you before," Kudou mumbles below his breath. He presses gently at the exposed line of Blondie’s ribs, probably looking for a break. Kurogane watches him move, unwilling to admit to the apprehension he feels when the doctor presses a stethoscope worriedly to the blond’s chest. Kudou shakes his head and carefully maneuvers the unconscious body into a forward-leaning position, trying to avoid the freshly stitched and bandaged hand, or the braced wrist.

Kurogane loses his breath, just for a moment, when he catches sight of the phoenix tattoo patterned down the length of the man’s back. Well, if he ever had any doubts that this guy worked for Ashura, they evaporate. The bird twists, burning up his spine, spilling forward to wrap around his upper arms. It’s a shame something so beautiful should represent such an ugly tie.

He’s lucky Yuuko just asks them to wear the pin.

"I need another roll of bandages," Kudou asks once they’ve both recovered enough to get their wits back.  Kurogane shakes his head and turns away from the sprawling ink, trying to put it out of his mind.

“I’m not your damn nurse,” he grumps, but Kudou's brief glance of annoyed disappointment sends him trudging for the room’s cabinets anyway. "Fine, here." He tosses one roll toward the doctor and keeps a second for himself. Determined to get his mind off Ashura’s man, he sets to rolling up his ragged pant legs, wiping the blood from his shoes and wrapping white fabric clumsily over the knife wounds there. He’s not sure it does him any good.

Truthfully, he should ask for help, but Kudou doesn’t owe him. He's in Yuuko's debt only. Besides, the doctor would make him sit still long enough to properly treat the thing, and neither of them can afford that. He needs to be _out_ of here before blondie wakes up, or he risks putting Kudou in danger.

In fact… now that he thinks of it, he's already putting Kudou in danger. If anyone from Celes finds out Kudou and Yuuko have a deal....

"Look," Kudou starts, only to pause as he catches sight of Kurogane's poor bandaging attempts. He opens his mouth to comment, thinks better of it, and shakes his head. "I owe Yuuko, so I haven't got much choice, but you can't just drop your mistakes off at my doorstep--"

"I didn't," Kurogane protests blankly, tying his attempted bandages off with a knot just this side of too tight. He pockets the bandage roll without asking.

"Kurogane, you most certainly did--"

"I didn't drop him off. A good Samaritan found him, walked him over, and ran off before you could ask too many questions. You have no idea what happened to him." Kurogane coaches. Kudou takes a deep breath, sighs out through his nose, and rubs at the space between his eyes. "You’ve never met Yuuko. You don't know a thing about him. Here's his wallet, but no, he wasn't found with anything else." He tosses the unhelpful thing on the counter behind himself and stands to leave.

Kudou manages to catch him before he gets the door open,

“I’m not holding him here for you. Whatever you intend, it’s no concern of mine.”

“I’m not asking you to involve yourself!” He’s almost offended at the suggestion. Sure, if the asshole was strapped down to a hospital bed on doctors’ orders, it’d make his job easier, but if he’d wanted that he really _would_ have found a way to get the guy to the hospital. No sense making people think Kudou was acting on his behalf. “Just—make sure he won’t die, and send him off, or whatever.”

Send him off… send him home… Kurogane’s mind lets the thought sit, cycles through it.

Actually… this diversion might prove more useful than he thought. If he can figure out where the guy lives...

“Anyway, I’m out of here before the asshole wakes up. You never saw me, got it?” He doesn’t wait for Kudou’s acknowledgement before he tears away from the examination room and towards the backdoor of the clinic. He has to duck into the bathroom to avoid being spotted by a nurse, but he’s not _completely_ terrible at his job. He makes it out. Doesn’t even track any blood on the floor, thanks to his admittedly poor bandaging attempt.

Obviously, Kurogane can't wait around outside and follow the mystery man. The guy’s too keyed into Kurogane's presence by now. But maybe if he's nursing those injuries and limping home, he might let his guard down enough for someone _else_ to keep an eye out. And without his knives, anyone he assigns shouldn’t face too much danger...

By the time he turns the corner and makes his way down the block, his phone is already at his ear.

“Hey kid,” he mumbles, “got a task for you. There’s someone I need you to tail…”

 

* * *

 

He keeps the knife.

The smaller daggers he sets aside for someone else. Throwing blades has never appealed to Kurogane personally, but he knows eventually one of Yuuko's other employees will find a use for them. It's just the long knife he wants, slender and sharp with a detailed, lacquer handle and a matching painted sheath. It's oddly pretty and well-cared for—seems obvious that Blondie must have really liked it.

Kurogane doesn't usually consider himself a petty person, but that guy _has_ ruined an entire suit at this point. He’s allowed a trophy or two.

Between that and the text he just got from the kid, he feels better about the whole thing than he has for days.

“ _Polyphemus dwells in the northern fen._

_5-6-3, 3A”_

His eyes had rolled straight up into his skull when he’d first read it. Syaoran means well, but the nerdy literary analogies only make him look _more_ suspicious.

“The Northern Fen” can only mean Shimokitazawa: a neighborhood better known for its hip, young residents. Fifth ward, block six, building three…. He looks up the address and finds a satellite picture of the place. It’s oddly quaint—not anywhere near as upscale as Kurogane would expect for a guy who spends his nights running a gambling floor. Apartment 3A even sports a tiny balcony, covered in kitschy décor and overgrown houseplants. Doesn’t seem like Blondie’s style at all… maybe he has a girlfriend?

It doesn’t matter. He’s not supposed to be interested in that guy or his life; the knife-user served as nothing more than an obstacle in his path to Ashura. Kurogane has to keep his head on straight. The address is insurance, nothing more.

He shakes his head, sets his phone down and starts stepping into his role for the night. Isolated in his old room at Yuuko’s place, he pulls jacket after jacket from the dusty closet, trying to find one left that can fit his frame. With the blond out of commission he should have no trouble finishing the job (finally.) None of the others working at Celes have ever caught a glimpse of his face. With sunglasses and maybe a hat, he’ll be as good as anonymous. He can sneak in, prowl the floor as a gambler, make sure security rotations haven’t changed overmuch, and simply make his way to the offices.

He’s debating the best way to deal with Yuuko’s pin when he gets the _second_ text.

“ _Though Injured, Polyphemus still went out in the morning to tend to his flock._

_Oodakyu, 18:18”_

Really.

_Really_. Guy has a broken wrist, at least bruised ribs, a concussion, and whatever you call it when you drive a knife through your hand, and he _still_ goes to work? Ashura has to be one scary-ass employer to inspire such dedication.

“ _Got it. Thanks for the homework help. You home yet?”_ he texts Syaoran back, suddenly less certain that tailing this guy won’t put the kid in danger. Apparently, Blondie can weather that beating, get home, change clothes, and march right back out again to ride the subway during the evening rush. He wants Syaoran far, far away.

Shit. What is he going to do now? He can’t head into the Celes. Blondie will spot him in an instant.

He could try to consult Yuuko on the matter again, but he knows what she’ll say. She may not _want_ the blond dead, but she does things she doesn’t want often enough. Two deaths might alert the police unnecessarily, but a disappearance should coast through unnoticed if he times things right.

He just… doesn’t really want to have to do that. That guy is kind of fun to mess with—he hasn’t had anyone who could meet him toe to toe in years. Besides, there’s a reason he got the guy’s address, right? He has his insurance. He should go cash it out.

Alright. Alright, so the blond heads into work and leaves his cute little apartment alone. Doesn’t look like he lives there by himself, unless Kurogane simply has the wrong idea about this guy’s aesthetic. Either way, the place should have no watcher for now. Assuming Blondie’s theoretical apartment-mate is even marginally less competent, Kurogane should have no trouble stepping inside.

If someone else _does_ live there, he can take a hostage. He doesn’t _like_ the idea, but he likes it better than disappearing someone who’s just done their job. If there is no roommate, at least he might find some good blackmail material. And failing that… well if he winds up needing to remove the guy anyway, he might as well know where to hide and wait.

He pulls the last suit jacket back off again, fumbling for its hanger, before he turns back and digs even deeper into the closet. To stroll through Kitazawa after dark unnoticed, he’ll need a wardrobe change.

 

* * *

 

The place looks just about exactly like its satellite photo. Even in the dark, he can see the cluttered mass of greenery and decor strewn across the balcony of 3A. He spares a thought to wonder whether the guy had simply led Syaoran to a friend's place, or even broken into a stranger's apartment, but he doesn't have the time to worry about possibilities right now. 

He investigates the front entryway briefly with a glance, noting the multiple locks and sturdy materials. He might be able to kick it in, but he wouldn't put it past the owners to have a home security system. There's an easier way.

Trying to keep a low profile, he stands at the street corner in the best approximation of "trendy college kid wear" that he could scrounge together. Watanuki had laughed at him on his way out of Yuuko's complex, but he thinks he did well enough. He'd certainly never choose the slim pants for himself on a normal day--made to look like dark denim, but able to stretch if he needs to move in a fight. They’re way too tight for his tastes, but they do keep the bandages on his shins in place nicely and the dark color should hide any potential bleed through. The loose sweater almost suits him though. It’s a nice burgundy, large enough to hide the awkward bulge of the stolen knife tucked into a deep back pocket.

Luckily, his usual method of using a fake instrument case as a scabbard works with this outfit just as easily as his usual suits. The woodwind case makes him look like any other busking hopeful.

Kurogane eyes his fellow pedestrians. He tugs at the sleeves, pulls a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and pretends to fight with a lighter as a wave of passersby stroll through. The moment traffic dies down and no one is watching, he strides for the balconies.

Kurogane's height and upper body strength afford him a lot of luxuries when it comes to breaking and entering. He has very little trouble hoisting himself upwards, balcony to balcony, with the barest crevice of a foothold and the strength of his fingers to anchor him. He narrowly avoids knocking a flower pot or two spiraling down towards the pavement as he eases himself up and onto the third floor. His wounds protest the exertion, but he has practice ignoring them. He’ll live.

The moment finds stable ground, he crouches, pressing himself against the apartment and peering sideways through the backdoor. He doesn't examine the area for entry points until he makes certain that no one stirs within.

Looks like the coast is clear. He tests the door and finds it locked. Unsurprising. One of the windows, however, sits open wide. _That_ , he wonders about. The night air isn't unbearably cold, but enough chill lingers this time of year to keep most windows shut tight. He wonders, not for the first time, whether he might have led himself straight into another trap.

He doesn't think so. He just _knows_ he has the upper hand this time. He can feel it.

The screen pops off with a gentle sound and no trouble. He loops his "instrument" over his hand and slides it in to the room first. Angling his shoulders through the narrow frame takes effort, but he manages well enough. His torso and hips follow easily, letting him rest against the sill as he rotates around and swings both of his feet inside.

He finds himself amidst a quaint apartment. The place looks tidy enough, if a little shabby. It's also small; either a one bedroom or a studio. From where he stands, he can see the front door, a couch and small television, neatly folded bedding, and a full, if cramped, kitchenette. Bright colors fill the living area with every cushion and poster, a few plants unable to weather the early spring air settled by the door. He even spots a line of animated character figurines dotted across one shelf.

The reason for the open window becomes apparent as his senses acclimate to the indoors. Hot, humid air spirals out from what must be the bathroom nearby, whole apartment ringing dully with the sound of a running shower.

Kurogane keeps his weapon within easy reach and tries to determine the way to proceed. Either he’d been right from the beginning and the guy _doesn't_ live alone, Syaoran had made a mistake about Blondie leaving for work, or his opponent never actually lived here in the first place. In any case, he needs to see for himself.

He holds his breath and stalks toward the cracked door. A very traditional Japanese bathroom lays behind it. He has no direct line of sight to the shower, but he can peer in and catch a glimpse using the reflection from the sink mirror.

At first, he assumes the worst. The man in the shower is tall, slender, and blond. He starts to panic, trying to think through the best move he might make going forward when he realizes something's missing... a few things, actually.

Kurogane steps closer, tightly controlling every sound he makes. He risks being seen to ease the door open just an inch wider, emboldened by curiosity and the knowledge that his prey is turned away at the moment. The person in the shower looks very much like his dance partner from this morning, except that no tattoo mars his bare back.

Blondie's tattoo had stuck vividly in his mind. He remembers the way it looked, real and _textured_ in the too-white light of the clinic. There was no _way_ that mark was fake. Besides, he'd gawked long enough to have seen any truly horrific scars; the guy had sported a few dings, but nothing gruesome. Whoever this person is, jagged lines of bright red scar tissue cross his spine from right shoulder to left hip. The marks look uneven—must have been painful when he’d first earned them to remain so prominent long after healing.

Once Kurogane accepts that the guy in the shower must be a second person entirely, more and more differences become clear. Those limbs, while lithe and graceful, lack the more defined muscle tone he’d spotted on his knife-throwing acquaintance. Besides, He _knows_ he broke Blondie’s wrist, and this person has no such injury. No bruises creeping around his rib cage from the left either.

The stranger’s form shifts and pulls sinuously as he works shampoo out of his hair, too short, now that he thinks to notice it. Kurogane’s eyes trace the path the soap takes, dripping from the nape of his neck over the texture of scars and down, down to trace his _rather nice_ —

He shakes his head, banishing such ridiculous thoughts from his mind. As attractive as this guy might look, Kurogane’s interest must remain strictly professional. His thoughts tick away as he tries to determine who he’s stumbled upon and what to do about it. Even from behind, the man looks far too much like Celes’s dealer to be anything other than a relative. He’d come determined to take a hostage if needed, hadn’t he? Maybe it was time to put that plan in motion.

He’s just preparing to step into the room and move in when he hears the muffled sound of someone talking. It’s his soon-to-be hostage, of course, muttering inaudibly to himself beneath the sound of water. He pauses, straining to hear what the man might say when—

“—have every damn right to be worried!” the water shuts off. Kurogane scrambles to duck aside and out of sight. “Oh, nothing strange happening at all! Don’t mind me coming home looking like I lost a fight with a truck, it’s _fine_.” He catches a glimpse of the stranger’s face in the mirror as he turns around, long arms reaching out for a towel. Breath stutters to a stop as Kurogane realizes; this person isn’t just Blondie’s sibling, he’s a _twin_. The image in the mirror shows the _exact_ same face he saw staring at him across a cup of coffee earlier today, except this person still possesses _two_ ridiculously blue eyes.

“Alright well, see how you like it when your dark chocolate goes missing tonight, you self-sacrificing _asshole_ ,” the guy hisses under his breath, drying his hair rather more vigorously than necessary. Without the adrenaline roaring in his ears, Kurogane might even have found the scene funny.

He forces his eyes away, turns aside and draws his blade. With his back pressed flat against the wall, he’s ready to spring forward as soon as his hapless target treads over the threshold.

Before long, pale, bare feet cross the boundary between carpet and linoleum in the corner of his vision and Kurogane springs into motion. He lunges to the side and looms over his quarry from behind, sword's edge coming to rest against the column of an elegant, thin neck. The sight strikes him as oddly reminiscent of his fight this morning.

"Don't move," He growls into the man's ear, holding one hand free just in case he needs to stifle a hysterical scream. This isn't his first hostage rodeo.

He needn't have bothered. Not only does the guy fail to panic, he completely disregards the sharp object pressed to his neck and turns in place. Kurogane has to angle the blade away to avoid drawing blood. What the _fuck_ is wrong with these crazy blond people.

“Hunh.” Still dripping on the carpet and naked save for a towel at his waist, the twin blinks up at Kurogane’s furious expression. “Well this is new.” He brings the sword to a new position to threaten his target with, free hand wrapping around the bare skin of a still-damp upper arm.

“I _said_ don’t move!” he grits, drawing a bead of blood for emphasis. The man has the _audacity_ to roll his eyes.

“Sweetheart, I’m sure you’re very intimidating, but I’m not in the mood to play along.” Those delicate features pull into an annoyed pout, his fingers prying at Kurogane’s grip. “I imagine you have some reason for being so rude, so you might as well explain it. Burglary? Hopefully not. I haven’t got much lying around. Hmm…. You’re not one of my brother’s acquaintances, are you?”

Kurogane just… doesn’t really know how to deal with him.

“You aren’t in a position to ask questions,” he bites, trying to instill _any_ semblance of fear. Instead, he watches decisive calculation flicker across the blond’s face for just an instant before the idiot lunges _toward his blade_. Kurogane swings it away, eyes wide.

“Figured.” The madman in his grasp chirrups, head tilting. “You need me alive for something, huh?”

That—just—ugh! Both of them are utterly _infuriating_. Kurogane bites his own cheek to quell his temper.

“Don’t need you with all your fingers,” he bristles, satisfied when the pronouncement _finally_ elicits a wince.

“Charming. Do you talk to all the boys that way, or just me?" The man sighs, _impossibly._ Kurogane only allows himself a second or two of sputtering before he shifts his hold down to circle his enemy's wrist, forcing one elegant hand closer and closer to the sword's edge. "Oh, _alright_ already. You can give me your demands and let me see whether they're worth a finger or two, but at least let me find some pants first!"

Kurogane stares blankly at his target, unable to believe his luck. He's got an enemy bodyguard who just won’t quit and a twin who simply refuses to cower. Figures he'd find two opponents with the absolute worst survival instincts in all Tokyo right when Yuuko asks him not to kill anyone unnecessarily...

He growls, grappling he blond and spinning him around to hold him still as the sword slides back into its resting place.

"Sorry, I'm not a first date kind of guy," the silly thing chides, back arching away from Kurogane’s chest. He feels his face color without his permission.

"Just... shut up and tell me where your clothes are." He murmurs, utterly exasperated and refusing to admit to the way his hostage's teasing has begun to affect him.

This is going to be a disaster.

 

* * *

 

 

"Name," Kurogane demands, considerably less frazzled now that the... creature he's captured wears clothing once again. They’re staring each other down in the dim light of the apartment, hostage draped across the couch, Kurogane standing above. He holds tight to his target’s right wrist as he presses his stolen, lacquer-handled knife against the first knuckle of the man’s index finger. He’s glad he kept the thing and even happier he’d thought to bring it along. The contingent of ties he’d found tucked to one side of the wardrobe serve nicely to bind the blond’s left arm and ankles. Presumably, they belong to his one-eyed twin.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you it's rude to ask someone's name before you give your own?" Kurogane’s eyes narrow and he presses down on the knife a little harder. “Ow, jeeze, it’s Fluorite. Fai Fluorite, you huge dipwad. It’s written above the damn doorbell.” He eases back, feeling a little foolish for not thinking to look. How was he supposed to know whether the name on the door had been real? He still doesn’t really know, he supposes. He can have someone from the house check it out later.

A drop of blood rolls from the line beneath the knife to pool on the end table, but he hasn’t cut near deep enough to matter. (Yet.)

“And your brother?” Familiar, fleeting calculation dances over the blond— _Fai’s_ expression. His spine straightens, blue gaze sliding from the knife up to Kurogane’s face.

“is an asshole,” he intones dryly, barely even wincing when the knife presses back down again.

“I won’t hesitate,” Kurogane reminds him, forcing the blade further until he feels metal meet cartilage. The tiny muscles beneath Fai’s eyes twitch with pain, but he keeps himself from making a sound.

“What is it you want from him?” He’s bound and bleeding at Kurogane’s mercy, but somehow, he still has the gall to demand—sharp and unyielding. Kurogane wants to respect that kind of stubbornness, but it’s also careless. Foolhardy.

“Is just his name worth this?” He shoots back, twisting Fai’s hand to let the knife slice a spiral, knuckle deep, towards his palm. All the action earns him is a more obvious wince and a grunt of pain. He finds no surrender in those eyes.

“I don’t know yet, but I can’t risk it. Cut all of them off if you want, I _will not risk him_.” Kurogane glares, unrelenting with the knife. He lets it gnaw just slightly into gristle and bone. The man bites his cheek visibly to keep from crying out, but he has no intention of yielding. Even as the blood begins to puddle on the end table, he keeps his pained-calm.

What. The fuck.

“I don’t plan to harm him,” Kurogane declares truthfully. “Not if it can be avoided.”

“And yet, you have his knife.” His hand jerks in surprise at the words, further away from skin and injury. Fai raises an eyebrow in Kurogane’s direction but doesn’t bother to snatch his fingers away given the opportunity. “You’re the one who broke his wrist, aren’t you?”

_He started it_ , Kurogane wants to whine, petulant as a child. He looks to the sky for guidance and sweeps the knife away instead, wiping it down on the inside of his oversized sweater before he slides it into its sheath. Shame. He’d kind of liked the sweater.

“Your brother made a lot of trouble for me at the Celes.” He admits, nearing his wit’s end. This guy won’t break except under more serious torture, and such methods are too messy to try out here and now. Maybe he just needs to play along. He can always make Fai disappear if he needs to as a plan B. “I thought a broken bone might keep him home for a night or two. Sadly, he’s too dedicated for his own good.”

Kurogane waits, opens his mouth to make another demand, looks to his opponent and—

And finds him staring right back with narrowed eyes.

“You. Want him. To leave the Celes,” Fai surmises. “To do what?”

This… isn’t the reaction he expected. Every second that ticks by, his hostage actually looks… happier? Kurogane opens his mouth to say—he doesn’t know what because Fai immediately interrupts him.

“You know what, screw it. I really don’t care what you intend for the Celes, you want him to leave, right? That’s all you want from him?” Utterly bewildered, Kurogane nods, unnerved by the wicked smile twisting across Fai’s face.

“Thank you, whichever disparate gods for this lovely opportunity,” he murmurs to the ceiling inexplicably before turning back to Kurogane. His hand still drips blood, pulse still high beneath Kurogane’s grasping fingers, but his whole body exudes pleased excitement.

“My brother’s name is Yuui and he’s an idiot. Please, please, please make him quit his damn job.” Kurogane feels suddenly like he doesn’t understand anything at all.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone cares; I did doodle Yuui's tattoo over on tumblr. It's over here:  
> http://crystalrequiem.tumblr.com/post/171170153986/sketch-of-yuuis-tattoo-for-crimemafia-au


	3. Someone to Lien on

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please excuse my (terrible) hilarious loan puns as chapter names. 
> 
> NOTE: !TW! !!!!! Mentions of suicide first scene. !!!! 
> 
> It's *totally* not a major theme of the work, so I didn't really put it in the tags, but just in case. Skip the first four paragraphs down to "This… this is… " if you need to avoid. <3

 

* * *

 

 

Kurogane has worked in this business for… a little less than a decade probably. If he doesn’t count the time he spent apprenticed to one of Yuuko’s older agents, maybe only five or six years. Either way, he has a decent chunk of experience. He’s seen jobs go wrong, seen many more go right, and weathered a whole lot of strangeness either way. Yuuko’s still a boss, though a reasonably ethical one. She takes out major competition just like everyone else, but not wantonly. She’d rather ruin a man financially than take his life. But the child abusers and the rapists she discovers—the ones unlikely to get caught? Those, she doesn’t hesitate to call him for.

There’s a reason Yuuko’s neighborhood is cleaner than anywhere else in Japan. 

In any case, he’s used to dealing with two kinds of people. Untouchable rivals who can’t be removed any other way, and remorseless criminals preying on the innocent. Sometimes an innocent bystander makes things complicated and forces a hostage situation. He’ll never admit it to a soul, but those instances really don’t sit right with him.

He still has nightmares about one particular time early on in his career. He’d gone after an asshole who made his money pressing underage girls into illegal service at a love hotel. Something like that was against Yuuko’s rules, and Kurogane happily enforced them. Unfortunately, the target pulled a gun. Kurogane hadn’t expected that, and he’d improvised the best he could. He’d used the man’s wife as a shield, tried to hold her at sword’s edge to make him drop the weapon, but the bastard had shot himself instead.

Usually, when he thinks the word “hostage,” it brings up those very unpleasant memories. He hadn’t been _wrong_ to try to go after trash like that, but the way that woman sobbed and screamed—tried to pick up the sidearm to join her husband’s fate— it stuck with him somehow.  He’d come to the Fluorite apartment dreading the idea of a hostage, hopeful that at least he might avoid killing the only good challenge he’d come across in years.

This… _this_ is… can he even call Fai a hostage? What the fuck is this?

“And we’ll just… mess the futon up, like I was sleeping when you found me. Ooh! I should bleed on it! That’ll scare the hell out of him for sure!”

“Trust me, there’s already enough blood to scare him,” Kurogane grouches, fairly certain that he’s lost control of this situation. Fai told him where to find his tiny medical kit in the bathroom cabinet, so here he sits, taping and bandaging the same wound he’d only just inflicted. It’s deep and nasty, intentionally so, but only inflicted on a finger. Kurogane doesn’t figure it needs stitches therefore, but what does he know. Maybe he should ask Yuuko to call in another favor from Kudou…?

“Hmm. I guess,” Fai agrees, sounding oddly disappointed. “We have to leave a note with demands somehow, right? Oooh, you should pin it to the front entryway with Yuui’s knife.”

_My_ _knife now,_ he thinks petulantly, pulling the second butterfly bandage taught and reaching for a pad of gauze.

“Or,” he grouches, “you could let me do my damn job. …There. Not cutting off circulation, is it?” He asks as he finishes tying the bandages off, already moving to pack the first aid kid back and away. It’d look strangely contradictory if he tried to leave a kidnapping scene behind along with evidence that Fai’s wounds had already been seen to.

“No idea! It mostly just throbs. Probably not great.” Fai lifts the digit above his head, staring up at it with a bored expression. “Is there chance you plan on untying me any time soon?”

“Not likely,” Kurogane grants, deeming his charge at least safe enough to leave behind while he returns the first aid kit to the bathroom. However utterly deranged the situation, he thinks he can trust Fai’s claim that he wants to force his twin away from the Celes.

He steps back into the room and folds his arms across his chest, considering. With a nod to himself, he knocks the end table over, spilling Fai’s blood over the carpet in an artful splash. Creating the scene of a struggle, he pulls his sleeves down low enough to cover his fingertips and scoots the couch aside with Fai still on it, ignoring the silly catcalls the move earns him from the peanut gallery. The wardrobe he simply leaves in its open, messy state. He hadn’t been very careful in his search for clothing earlier.

“Phone?” Kurogane demands, and Fai points him toward the television. Sure enough, a rectangular phone in a slightly garish case sits beneath—red plastic with sweeping, flowering designs. He fiddles with it for only a moment or two before tossing it none-too-gently to the floor. Fai winces across the room. “So, I have to know. Why go along with this?”

“No offense to your line of work, big guy, but I’d rather my brother find something else to do. You’re not the first one to kick his teeth in and you won’t be the last. I want him _safe_.” He knows he should treat anything Fai says with a grain of salt. Who knows how he might be manipulated, but… the words ring so true.

He wonders, not for the first time, what his parents might think of him now…

Best not to.

“None taken.” Kurogane offers. “Do you have your brother’s phone number memorized?”

“Yes? Hey—!” Fai looks truly flustered for the first time as Kurogane stomps his phone, glass cracking in delicate, spider-webbed patterns beneath his foot. “ _Why?_ ” the blond cries, more upset by violence towards his damn cellphone than the nearly severed fingertip.

“You want to scare him, don’t you? Kurogane cajoles, amused by Fai’s annoyance. Maybe… this won’t wind up such a travesty after all. It’ll be nice to have a hostage working _with_ him, even if he can’t really trust the guy’s loyalties long term. “When does… Yuui usually get home?”

Fai simply glares at him, pouting a few moments longer before he sighs, “Five, six in the morning? It takes him a while to close the place up.” Kurogane nods. They have time then. Good. He sets about finding pen and paper, always careful not to touch anything directly just in case. He can have Fai write his own ransom note, call in a favor with someone, and score a ride back to his apartment.  He can _do this_ , he thinks, pulling out his burner to contact the driver.

 

* * *

 

He can’t do this.

He’s going to go mad, kill his hostage, and then probably himself before he manages to make any headway.

“Hmm… You seem kind of ninja-like… Sasuke, maybe?”

“No,” he bites for the fiftieth time in the last ten minutes. Fai is utterly and completely incorrigible, even blindfolded and bound in the backseat of a stranger’s car. The blond huffs, tossing his head back with a sigh, as if Kurogane were the difficult one.

“You could just _tell_ me your name and save me the trouble. I told you mine.”

“Not my problem.” He can see Lantis’s shoulders shaking in the driver’s seat. Vision’s right-hand man might have a reputation for his stoic exterior, but Kurogane just _knows_ the bastard is enjoying this. He’s going to talk to Vision about this, and Kurogane will never hear the end of it. Too bad he’d had to ask the guy for a favor, but he hadn’t seen any other options. The subway doesn’t provide an easy or safe method of hostage transportation. Not without some kind of preparation, anyway.

“Maybe you just go by a codename. Like…. ‘Big Dog,’” Fai muses. Kurogane’s hands itch to wring his neck. He looks far too satisfied with himself _not_ to know he’s driving his captor crazy. Maybe Kurogane could repurpose one of the ties holding Fai still as a gag and get away with it. “Or like… Murder Dad.”

Lantis can’t help himself any more and busts into full laughter.

“What the fuck kinda code name would that be?” The objection bursts from him unbidden. He regrets speaking instantly when he sees the idiot’s smile widen, ever so slightly.

“So you _can_ say more than three words at a time!” Fai crows, face tilted to the sound of Kurogane’s voice even though he shouldn’t be able to see a damn thing with the tie securely wrapped over his eyes. Lantis hasn’t stopped snickering and Kurogane is _never going to live this down_. His hands clench open and shut uselessly in the empty air, wishing he could strangle his soon-to-be houseguest. “And here I thought—!”

Vision’s man is a good driver and the turn they make isn’t rough at all. But… considering Fai’s blinded state… he cuts himself off as he loses his balance, tries to catch himself against the door with his bound hands, wounded finger and all. Kurogane hears the pained hiss of breath that ill-advised move elicits and tries not to wince in sympathy.

“You’re hopeless,” he grouches, reaching across the back seat to wrap one arm behind the fool’s shoulders and keep him stable. “If I have to find a doctor for your damn hand, it will not end well for you.” The threat doesn’t even seem to register. Fai shoots him a weary smirk.

“Worried about me now, Mr. Tall, Dark and Angry?” Kurogane growls, bites his tongue and waits for Lantis to round the next block before he pulls his arm back and scoots as far toward the other side of the car as he can manage.

“Think I might start using that name for you in my reports,” Lantis tells him, far too pleased by the whole thing. The assassin flips him off in the rearview, unwilling to give Fai more ammo to tease him with. He just wants to get home already.

“You won’t drop me any hints, driver-san?” Fai charms, easy as you please. He crosses his legs and leans toward Kurogane while he talks. He has _no business_ looking so comfortable in this situation. “Honestly, he’s seen me naked, tied me up, got his hands all over me, you’d think he at _least_ owes me his name by now, wouldn’t you?” Kurogane’s face burns. Lantis snickers, but he knows better than to stick his nose in to someone else’s work.

“Sounds like you two get along just fine without it,” or so Kurogane had believed. He’s going to ask Yuuko what she’s got on Vision’s people and the _next time they meet, so help him_ —

“Hmm. Maybe you’re right. I could just call him whatever comes to mind, I suppose. What do you think, Gumpy-Dog?” He will _not_ respond to that. No. No way. Lantis pulls to a stop and shoots him an amused smirk.

Kurogane flips him off again for good measure before reaching behind his hostage’s head to untie the blind. He doesn’t appreciate the way Fai seems to be laughing at him as his eyes adjust to the streetlights.

“Hands,” he demands, and the blond presents his bound wrists obediently. “I’m untying you to walk into the apartment, but you had better believe if you cause _any trouble_ —”

“Really? Is this whole pageant _really_ necessary? Unless you lied to me before and you intend to hurt my brother further _I’m on your side,_ remember?”

_And I’m just supposed to trust you?_ he wonders, flustered by Fai’s earnest naiveté. He thinks of the one-eyed twin, Yuui, and his attempted trap—the easy way he flipped from congenial to murderous and back again. That man wouldn’t have believed a word Kurogane said. He would understand this kind of caution. The fact that Fai doesn’t makes him feel weirdly… protective? No, that’s not the right word.

“Just…. Get out of the car,” he relents, pulling the door on his side open and dragging Fai along by the wrist. He ignores Fai’s meaningless string of complaints to lean back and nod to Lantis one last time. “Appreciate it.”

“We’re square for last time,” Vision’s right-hand replies, eyes dark. Kurogane hardly thinks they’re _square_. He’d as good as saved Vision’s life back then, but… whatever. He’ll take it.  He nods, careful not to allow the reluctance he feels to show on his face, before he turns back to the task at hand.  He has a feeling he’s in for a long few days.

 

* * *

 

He still has a lot to do before the night ends, but the long day starts to weigh at him by the time he has Fai sequestered away. Steaking out Celes to follow Yuui this morning meant waking up ungodly early, so even though it’s scarcely midnight now, he’s dead on his feet. He could go without sleep for a night or two, but it’s a bad idea if he wants to try infiltrating again tomorrow. Besides, as his aching arm and shins remind him, he has wounds to heal, and the body always recovers faster with sleep.

So for the sake of his sleep schedule and because he knows he’ll need a guard handy if he plans to keep working these next few days, he calls his apprentice over.

He hesitates to involve the kid. They’ve been working mostly on training and tactics together, but he avoids assigning real missions for the most part for a _reason_. She’s a spitfire, vicious and talented with a blade, when it comes to stealth and nuance she’s a _little_ —

“I came as fast as I could, Kurogane-sensei! You said something about babysitting?” Not great. She’s not great at subtle. He covers his face with one palm and tries to ignore the utter glee radiating off Fai from the couch. He should have mentioned the name thing.

“Come in…” he sighs, sidestepping her to close the door in her wake. She slips her shoes off near the entryway and bounces in to the living room. He notes with approval that she’s brought her practice sword along, strapped to her backpack and wrapped as if it were a simple wooden bokken.

“Oh, hello,” she greets Fai a little stiffly the moment she notices him. Thankfully, she looks back to Kurogane for guidance before she does anything else. Hikaru’s a good kid and not a terrible student. Only _slightly_ hapless.

"Fai's staying here for a few days, long as things go the way they should.” He chances a glance toward the blond in question and finds him smirking back. He’s lounging on the couch just like he’d draped himself comfortably in the car, though without his wrists bound he’s freer to sprawl. The injured hand he holds a little gingerly, but otherwise he seems entirely at ease.

“Yes, _Kurogane_ -sensei here very kindly kidnapped me and offered to help me achieve my dreams.”

“Oh…. That’s… good?” Hikaru doesn’t know what to do with him either. At least Kurogane isn’t alone in that. He cracks his jaw, and leans back, trying to convey to his apprentice with his eyes just how frustrating this whole mess has been.

“I need you as a lookout.” He tells her, wishing he could figure out a way to turn his mind off and autopilot through the next few days. “This one isn’t likely to try anything, but he’s not permitted to leave or have any outside contact. If we’re unlucky, his brother might come looking for him too. So we’re on lockdown, got it?”

“Got it!” Hikaru echoes, hand raising in a mock salute. “Should I ask why he’s here, or is it better not to know?” Kurogane considers his student. She’s young, but not _too_ young. Little older than he’d been when he first started on his own, honestly. She knows how to fight well enough that he can trust her to defend herself. It shouldn’t hurt for her to know at least a little, though he’d rather not give her the whole picture and risk her accidentally saying something she shouldn’t. He prepares to deliver an edited version of the story, only for Fai to interrupt.

“Apparently, my brother’s too good at his job, so I’m your leverage to make him quit.  I want him to quit too, so I’m sure we’ll get along just fine.” He announces with an easy smile and an attempted bow. Hikaru’s eyes dart quickly from Fai to her teacher.

“More or less,” Kurogane assents.

“Names are okay?” She asks. He raises an eyebrow, waiting for her to realize.

“Bit late to worry about that, don’t you think?” She blinks back in confusion before her earlier blunder occurs to her—hands flying to her mouth as her face burns red. “Fai, Hikaru. Hikaru, Fai,” He introduces them lazily, fairly certain that no real danger can come to her for it. Or at least, no _new_ danger. She’s Kurogane’s student; that makes her something of a constant low-level target.

“Sorry Sensei,” she murmurs, embarrassed. He waves her off. Maybe Fai’s more than he appears, and he plans to leak information to Ashura. Maybe he’s playing them for the long con, but Kurogane doesn’t think so. He’d like to think he can trust in the idiot’s naïve wish to see his brother safe.

“Are you awake enough for first watch?”

“Yes!” It’s all the okay he needs. He steps away to hunt down futons and bedding for his guests. They should have about five hours still until Yuui makes it back to that apartment assuming the guy heads straight home. Can he find and post a watcher on the place by then?

“Is he always so… serious?” He can hear Fai’s question clear as day, and his eyes roll to the ceiling. Surely the fool realizes how small his cramped apartment is. Not as tiny as the one the twins share, but still.

“Most of the time,” Hikaru admits easily. Come on, she at _least_ should realize he can still hear them. He tugs a futon down from the closet and lets it hit the floor with a distant _thump._ The oblivious duo in his living room don’t pay it any mind. “He’s a great teacher though. And really nice when you get to know him.” Damnit. He’d had trouble intimidating the guy before, could she _not_ lower his fear factor into the ground, thanks? He waits out a beat of blessed silence as he tries to dig through the closet for a spare pillow or two. “Oh, did you hurt your hand?”

“Hmm? Oh, just a bit of a misunderstanding between Kuro-sensei and me.” Fai doesn’t seem intent to reveal Kurogane’s attempt at torture to his apprentice. Interesting. He wonders why. Is that really how he views it? Kurogane had nearly permanently maimed him…

He gathers the last of the bedding and drags the stack into the living room. 

“You have my name now, Jackass, you might as well use it properly,” he carps as he dumps the whole pillowy mess in Fai’s lap. “Sleep on the futon or the couch, don’t care which, don’t care when. Hikaru, come trade me in four hours.”

“You’ve got it.” She beams at him, wandering into the kitchen side of the room to tuck her bag behind the counter. His eyes follow her motion, narrowing as he recognizes something off in the line of her movement. She’s… limping slightly? Hmm.

“Make sure you take care of that sprain before you head to bed, kid, or we’re not practicing this week.”

“R-right!”

Kurogane nods to himself and turns to leave, eager to arrange a watcher and treat his own wounds before collapsing into bed. He makes the mistake of catching Fai’s dancing eyes.

“….what?” he asks, unnerved. The blond shakes his head, smiling just a little wider.

“Kuro-dad should get some rest.” Great. So the idiot has a new game now.

“It’s Kurogane,” he grits, trying to channel every ounce of murderous intent he can manage into his expression.

“I’ll keep that in mind, Kuro-grumpy.” Fucking hell. He should have just kept his mouth shut. He’s known Fai for all of four hours so far and he already knows better than to hand the guy ammo to work with. He breathes out, cracks his neck and shakes his head. He’s too tired for this shit.

Maybe he can reevaluate whether he cares about maintaining Yuuko’s “no kill” rule in the morning.

 

* * *

 

“Any idea where he keeps the sugar?”

Someone, somewhere once said, “ _Things will look better in the morning_.”

“Oh, I think it’s in that cabinet on the left? Sorry he doesn’t cook a lot so I’m not totally sure.”

Kurogane stares up at the ceiling of his bedroom, notes the light slipping in through the blinds, and thinks that someone is full of a lot of shit.

“Aha! It was hidden in the back.” He can hear them cooking. Hikaru’s letting the hostage cook. Damn it.

He groans, forcing himself to sit upright. Sleep helps heal faster, but it also makes aches and pains more obvious. Yuui had given him enough of a fight to leave him sore—core and forearms aching. He doesn’t mind that kind of ache—like a good workout. The sharp pain radiating from his shins when he puts his feet to the floor, he likes far less. The scabs pull and itch when he stands and shifts his weight, wounds re-settling after a few hours without use. He’ll get around to changing the bandages later.

“So, are you still in school?” Fai’s voice carries from the kitchen through his door. Kurogane should probably head out there right this instant and correct whatever nonsense Hikaru saw fit to allow.

“Oh, I dropped out a couple of years ago,” his apprentice admits cheerfully. “My brothers stayed though.  I think Kakeru’s in college now, and Masaru should have even graduated!”

What the fuck is she doing. She should know better than to tell an absolute stranger any of the more personal details of her life. Does she _want_ people after her family? Kurogane pulls himself together, throws on a shirt and starts moving for the kitchen.

“…You 'think?'”

“Mmhm. It’s a little complicated, but the short of it is that I ran away from home.” She tells him without a hint of shame, and Kurogane narrowly avoids facepalming himself back into unconsciousness.

“Hikaru,” he chides as soon as they come into view. Both houseguests jump at the sound of his voice, turning to stare at him with nearly identical guilty expressions. “I said four hours, didn’t I?”

She winces, fingers reaching up to play with her hair.

“Sorry, Sensei. You just looked like you could use it. And I wasn’t really tired yet, so—”

“So you should have come to get me anyway. What if I needed to wake up for a job?” Hikaru shrinks into herself a little further. She hadn’t though of that, he guesses. 

“Oh, it was my idea really, Kuro-sleepy. No need to take poor Hikaru to task for it.” Fai jumps to her rescue, gesturing with a spoon as he talks. He’s appropriated what must make up half the cooking implements Kurogane owns for whatever project he’s working on, currently occupied with pouring a mixture of something into the skillet.

“She shouldn’t have _listened_ to you, is the problem. And Hikaru, do you _really_ need me to tell you that talking about your family to this guy’s a bad idea?” The blond blinks in confusion, smile sliding away as he tries to parse Kurogane’s admonishment. His apprentice, on the other hand, shakes her head stubbornly.

“Sensei, I’m pretty sure… I mean, Fai’s _painfully_ civilian, I don’t think—” she cuts herself off, whirling to face the man apologetically, “No offense! You’re just really nice and obvious about everything, and that’s not really normal with people like us."

“None… taken?” he blurts back, though he sounds uncertain. He rearranges his face in a confused pout—trying to figure out whether he should be insulted or not.

“Fai’s civilian, but his _brother_ certainly _isn’t_ ,” Kurogane reminds. Hikaru sighs and nods, her gaze falling to the floor. “Did you take care of that ankle yet?”

“Iced it and everything,” she grumbles morosely.

“Then get to sleep. I’ll need you awake later." She moves without further prompting, rinsing her hands in the sink and making certain to pick her bag up as she goes. She knows where the hall closet is if she wants new sheets, but he has a feeling she'll just take his bed without even thinking about it.

"I'll put breakfast in the fridge for you to warm up later!" Fai calls after her retreating back. She smiles brightly and murmurs her thanks before she shuts the bedroom door.

Kurogane waits two breaths before he rounds the corner and looms into the blond's space.

“You," he growls, reaching out with one hand to still the man's wrist and command his attention. "If anything happens to her brothers, don’t think I won’t know who leaked the information."

He's not sure what he expects Fai to say in answer. He watches delicate features form a blank expression, gaze calculating.

"Wow. You really don’t trust easily, huh." He muses as casually as if he had just commented on the weather. Kurogane releases his grip with a frown. Hikaru's statement from before crosses his mind and she's not wrong; he's _painfully_ civilian.

"Wouldn't live very long otherwise." The words escape him before he knows what he's even saying. Kurogane's frown deepens, unsettled by his own candidness.

"That sounds very lonely," Fai declares. He waits a moment or two for the assassin to answer, but with nothing forthcoming he turns back to his task. Kuogane simply watches him move as he tries to quiet his own thoughts. The blond has apparently found enough ingredients in his sparsely stocked kitchen to attempt pancakes. Fai struggles to flip the first one with a spatula while he stares, injured hand making the task more difficult than usual. "Hope you're hungry. I'm not as good as Yuui when it comes to cooking, but I figure I can make pancakes easy enough."

Kurogane wonders how he got to this point. He'd tried to torture information out of the man making him breakfast not even a full day ago. His eyes track the wound he knows he caused as Fai _finally_ manages to flip the creation in the skillet. "Aw... think I might have burnt it a little. Kuro-ji, do you think you could grab an extra plate for me? I’ll need a place to stack these soon."

"You should take the bandages off that thing and get some more anti-biotic cream," he notes, choosing to ignore the damn nickname game for now. "There's a med-kit in the bathroom behind the mirror you can use." He takes two strides toward the cabinets, snagging a heavy ceramic plate before he turns back to the fool manning his stove.

Fai is staring at him.

" _...what_." Kurogane bites, hackles rising. Fai's laugh bubbles slowly. It seeps through the cracks in his placid expression to light his face, warm and bright as the dawn. He takes the plate from Kurogane's fingers with an easy smile, more genuine than any he's shown so far.

"You're kind of sweet, Kuro-san."

Kurogane does not want to think about the reason his face burns right now.

"Shut up," he snaps as soon as he can find his voice again. If Fai hears, he doesn't react. His smile only inches a little wider, laughter dancing in those blue eyes.

Goddamnit, it's too early for this shit. Kurogane turns without a word more and retreats to the opposite side of the counter. He lowers his sore body onto a bar stool, narrowly resisting the urge to brain himself against the counter. _Painfully, excruciatingly civilian, _he reminds himself, trying to walk his own feelings back.

Seriously though, just... fuck this job. 

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I debated including Hikaru, but decided it was necessary. fite me.
> 
> Sword dad adopts everyone in cannon; Sword daughter is adopted by everyone in cannon. This seems an obvious match. Why do I not have more fics where sword dad has sword daughter???? More fics, fandom. More fics.


	4. Staking a Claim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kurogane and co attempt to scare Yuui into submission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo, ya'll still there? XD Not sure whether the last chapter worked out or not?  
> anyway here's this thing....
> 
> **Reup that warning for Murder and Graphic Injury this chapter. Just FYI***
> 
> as always, really looking for concrit- some things feel clunky to me.

 

* * *

 

 

There’s a difference between hunting down big family Yakuza and going after Ashura’s place.

The gambling hall is comparatively small time. It exists on the borderline between untouchable civilian and mafia proper. Despite the traditional family tatoos, Celes employs civilian girls to work the floor and caters to civilian clientele. Whether Ashura likes it or not, the gambling hall draws police attention.

Big family members and their more regular adjuncts on the other hand…. Well. Long as he doesn’t go on a killing spree, he can knock off more than a few without anyone in law enforcement batting a damn eye.

“No, please I’m begging you!” The target snivels, scrabbling on his back and trying to kick himself further away. Kurogane stares down at the blubbering fool as he stalks forward, blade flashing in the dim light of the office. He can’t help but compare the way this guy nearly pisses himself to the unyielding, fearless way Yuui had stared him down. It makes him _angry_ —having to take out trash like this with someone more interesting still in play.  Waste of his damn time.

“Ichihara-taichou gave you a chance to back down, Hojo scum, but you didn’t take it. How did you really think this would end?” Honestly, he scarcely even remembers Yuuko’s briefing earlier today. His mind has been elsewhere throughout this whole boring affair. Still, he knows it had something to do with this punk ass lieutenant trying to undermine Yuuko’s understanding with her neighborhood police. The fact she’d caught Hojo’s lackies pushing amphetamines near one of her bars only sealed this guys fate.

She didn’t like people edging in on _any_ of her markets. This dumbass had gone for two.

“You can’t do this!” the man wails, and Kurogane slides his blade forward. He’s just ready to be finished with this whole thing. “What is the witch paying you?—I’ll double it—Tripple!! I—” Steel silences that tongue just fine. Kurogane only has to line up the swing to sever the man’s ugly head from his shoulders. Blood splashes up and splatters Kurogane’s pants as the skull rolls, body twitching and slumping to a messy end. Damnit, if the bastard had faced his death and knelt on the ground like he’d had a backbone, Kurogane could have avoided the arterial shower.

“I’ll let Yuuko know I’ve got a competitive offer for my services. Maybe she’ll give me a raise.” He muses to himself with dark humor, using the back of the corpse’s jacket to clean his sword as quickly and efficiently as he can before he slides it back into its sheath. He’s wary of overstaying his welcome in a precarious place like this. Hojo’s main guards had crumpled like wet paper when he’d ambushed the office, but enough family members still mill about elsewhere in the building to give him trouble. Locked doors or no, the man hadn’t exactly gone quietly. Someone’s bound to come running soon. Still, his task isn’t quite finished yet.

There’s one other thing that separates yakuza targets and civilian… The police might not take much notice if a lower lieutenant or two goes missing, but the other families _certainly_ do. So, if Yuuko needs to send a message…

He wrangles the corpse up onto Hojo’s desk chair with a gloved hand, settling the grotesque head beside it on the desk’s surface. Then, he lifts a black card with a familiar gold embossed butterfly from his pocket, alongside a single, elaborately adorned needle. The card would simply drown in a sea of blood left out on the desk. He holds it disdainfully in place against the man’s chest and stabs the pin through paper and flesh. 

He hates when she has him pull this kind of flashy shit, but he doesn’t have much say in the matter. At the very least maybe Yuuko’s posturing can get these smalltime fuckers to back off for a while so he can focus on the Ashura job in peace.

“Boss! Is everything alright?” He hears muffled calls through the locked door and takes that as his cue. Stepping over a groaning, unconscious guard, he leaves the same way he came: through the window and back up onto the roof.

He has ridiculously little trouble freeclimbing his way through the back alleys and fire escapes back to more familiar territory. A few drunks mill the winding pathways below, but none have the wherewithal to look up. Few people ever do.

Kurogane drops back down to the earth behind bar Clover on the outskirts of Tomihisacho near Ni-chome. It’s one of the classiest places in town, perched right next to a theatre known for artsy performances. It’s _also_ one of Yuuko’s, which makes it a convenient place to stop by, lose any potential tails, and send his boss a message.

“Sorry sir, but you’ll need to use the front—Oh! Hello Kurogane.”  Suu’s soft voice greets him as he closes the back door behind himself. He nods back.

“Evening,” he acknowledges, “Is there a karaoke room free?”

“I’ll let them know to set one up for you.” She doesn’t ask about the red dotting his visage, but she also doesn’t seem surprised when he steps into the employee restroom to take care of it.

Maybe Fai’s right. Maybe there’s something wrong with this life. Sweet young ladies like Suu probably shouldn’t be so comfortable with the thought of a paid killer slipping in through the back. He probably shouldn’t feel so blasé about rinsing blood off his gloves and shoes in a tiny bathroom sink, patting himself down with paper towels to dab away whatever hasn’t dried on his suit, but… here they are.

Should it bother him that he's become the very thing that killed his parents? He'd gone down this path when Yuuko offered because it gave him a way to find revenge. But he'd taken out the man who'd killed them a few years ago now. Maybe he could have retired then. Yuuko would have let him. It simply... hadn't really occurred to him. The next scheduled job came up, and he'd simply planned for it, like he'd planned every job before. Maybe he simply hadn't known what else to do. He hadn't finished high school and he doesn't have a lot of marketable skills outside "assassination."

He stares his reflection down in the mirror as he splashes water over his face for good measure, trying not to see his father in the lines of his own expression. Does he regret this life? Regret killing men like Hojo in cold blood for Yuuko's benefit?

No, he realizes with a strange and worrying clarity. He really, really doesn't. It's not standard and it wouldn't have been what his parents wanted, but this life is all he has. It brought him family when he had no one, gave him something to protect and a means of staking out his own existence.

Kurogane shakes his thoughts away with the water and sweeps back into the dimly-lit halls of Clover. He doesn't know what brought his sudden fit of introspection on in the first place, except that he's had that chatty blond under lock and key in his apartment for the past couple of days. Must have been something he said, somewhere amidst his perpetual teasing.

Whatever. He doesn't have time to dwell on it.

"This way, Kurogane!" Suu chimes just down the hall, guiding him toward a familiar private room where he can update Yuuko in peace. He rolls his shoulders and follows with something like a smile.

 

* * *

 

 

"Kuro-wan!"

"Kurogane-sensei!" His houseguests greet him at the door, both perfectly awake and perfectly chipper despite the late hour. Hikaru, he can understand. Their guard regimen necessarily forced her to become something of a night owl these last two days. At least one of the two of them needed to stay awake and alert at all hours, and if she _hadn’t_ been waiting to confront whoever stepped through the doorway, he’d need to drill some new sense into her. Fai on the other hand...

"Have you slept at all in the last day?" He wonders aloud, eyeing his captive with suspicion as he slips his shoes off at the door.

“Yes, hello to you too,” Fai laughs. Hikaru takes mercy on his nerves and answers for him.

“He takes a lot of naps; three hours or so while you’re asleep and a few hours today while you were gone,” she reports.

_Idiot needs to sleep more than that_ , he thinks to himself, but he doesn’t bother to voice his thoughts aloud. Fai’s not his to worry about, really. Besides, if he mentions something, the blond will get all weird about him “dadding” everyone again, and he’s tired of the teasing.

“I sleep when I’m tired, it’s fine.” The fool whines, spurring a quiet giggle from Hikaru. Kurogane shakes his head and peels his jacket off— “Ah! Blood!”

…?

Kurogane looks himself over. Sure enough, with the jacket removed, red stains his right side, spreading up from the waistline.

Damnit, no one notices bloodstains on black, but it soaked into his shirt too? How did that even _get_ there? Ugh. Kurogane could kick himself for being so messy with this job. He feels oddly self-conscious and starts fighting to unbutton the damn thing—

“Here, let me help—where did they manage to cut you?” Fai steps toward him, hands fluttering uselessly, as if he doesn’t know where to land them. Kurogane looks to his apprentice, at a loss for words, and finds her staring back with just as much confusion. She shrugs.

“None of this is mine, Fai,” he placates. He watches panic transform into embarrassment on the man’s face with perplexed concern. 

“Oh! Right.” Kurogane has slowly grown used to finding himself flustered by Fai’s antics. Watching pink dust his tormentor’s cheeks instead is something of a rare privilege. “Sorry, I just thought—sorry.”

What was _that_ all about?

“Easy job?” Hikaru presses, obviously trying to spare Fai any further embarrassment.

“Too easy.” He tries to put thoughts of Fai’s inexplicable worry out of his mind and resumes his task, snaking out of his soiled shirt. Damn, that stain goes straight through. “…Yuuko owes me a damn cleaning service.”

“Sure looks like it.” His apprentice sasses. Kurogane tosses the soiled fabric at her in retaliation. “Hey!”

“Did we get any updates on Blondie?”

‘Blondie?” he sees Fai mouth as he puts himself back together. The hostage doesn’t seem ready to make eye contact with anyone again yet.

“Yeah.” Hikaru drops his shirt unceremoniously to the side and pulls the work cell from her pocket. It’s the one he usually only keeps for Yuuko’s calls. Now they’ve expanded its uses to include updates from Yuui’s watcher. “Looks like he’s got his own people trying to hunt us down. He still went into Celes today, but he didn’t stay very long; just opened the floor and left. Neko-san says she thinks he was waiting for someone to show up. She had to keep her distance, so she’s not completely sure what else went on.”

Kurogane sighs deeply. It’d be too much to ask if the guy just played along with the ransom note and the threatening texts, huh. He considers Fai for a few moments, trying to determine the best way to bring the man’s brother to heel. This whole thing is taking too long. Yuuko’s getting impatient, if her insistence on tonight’s job is any clue. He could turn to the old standard of sending in small bodyparts, one by one, but he has a feeling Fai’s easy compliance might fall to the wayside if he tried. Besides, he’s not sure he really likes the idea of doing that to Fai anyway…

It’s not like he really cares about the guy, really. Only… maybe he got used to thinking of the naïve twin as his responsibility these last couple of days. Besides, when Fai isn’t teasing him to his wits end or making trouble around the apartment… he’s not terrible company.

Not that Kurogane would ever admit as much in a hundred thousand years.

The point being, he likes this weird limbo they’ve found, with Fai grateful for their help and willing to listen to his instructions, no threats or torture needed. He doesn’t want to lose that. On the other hand, the whole point of this circus had been to pull Yuui away and kill Ashura. He can’t stop focusing on the end goal or he’ll lose his edge. (He thinks he might have already lost it.)

“What about a staged photo or two?” Fai muses aloud. “You could tie me to a chair or something, knock me around a bit and take pictures.” Hikaru winces preemptively.

“I don’t think that would really—”

“The problem is, he’s not afraid enough, right?” the blond presses, finding his confidence again. His minor stint of embarrassment evaporates, stubborn resolve taking its place. “He has to believe you’re willing to kill me to make this work. We could stage that with a few pictures, if Hikaru doesn’t mind playing photographer. It’ll scare him, I _know_ it will.”

“Fai, we’re not—”

“Alright,” Kurogane agrees, much to the surprise of his two guests. Maybe it works, maybe it doesn’t. But it’s a better alternative than cutting pieces off of Fai. “But it can wait. I’m taking a goddamn shower first.”

 

* * *

 

So. Build a terrifying photo, huh?

They don't exactly have any special effects or editing experience, and Yuui seems like the discerning sort. He doesn't think a run of the mill katsup display will work on a guy like that. So any wounds they want to display will have to be... practical.

"Okay, so we tie his hands, easy enough. Then.... well, if I actually wanted to get at someone I'd punch them in the stomach till they wanted to talk." Hikaru has a bad habit of thinking aloud to herself.

"Won't work," Kurogane countermands. His hair's still wet with shower water, but he feels a lot better for the cleanup. "That's decent for pulling information, but not great as a threat. Besides, no one would be able to see something like that with his shirt on, and there's no reason for us to have him stripped."

"I could just--" Fai stands in the kitchen, settled with his hands pressed to the counter opposite Hikaru and Kurogane as they toss suggestions back and forth.

"I guess we could mess his face up if you're worried about visibility, but..."

"Yeah, I'm not sure that's a great idea either. The reason sending body parts in boxes works so well is because it leaves everything up in the air. It's _uncertainty_ that scares the hell out of people. Leave things too obvious and it just looks like you're trying too hard."

"Hey, you two, seriously—" Annoyance colors his tone. Kurogane will figure out what he wants in just a second. They haven't finished determining how to seem willing to kill someone through visual media without actually maiming them.  

"What, you just want to like...  pose him with a knife at his throat or something? That sounds more like ‘trying too hard’ to me."

"Wouldn't you be scared if someone sent you a picture of your rich lady friend with a gun pressed to her head? 'Come to the station tomorrow, or the girl gets it,' and you'd go, right? Might be cheesy, but it _works_." Hikaru cringes at the mere mention of her blue-haired friend. She bites her lip, clearly taking a moment to think it through.

"Okay, I guess you might have a--"

_Wham_.

He and Hikaru both whirl to face the sudden, loud noise, only to find Fai face down on the counter. Apparently tired of their bickering, he'd simply bent at the waist and slammed himself with all his strength face-first into the countertop.

For a long while, none of the three of them move. The apartment rings with silence. Then, slowly, Fai picks himself back up.

"Ow," he moans, one hand reaching to cover the blood streaming freely from where he has most _assuredly_ broken his own nose. Kurogane doesn’t need to see it to know it’s broken. He’d _heard_ the thing snap. "Any god-damn way, as I was saying." The words sound strange, muffled behind hand and strained by pain. Honestly, Fai sounds just this side of delirious, tears of pain clouding his eyes. Red drips in a steady line from his chin and down his shirt. "If the idea of injuring me suddenly doesn’t appeal to you for some reason, I can do it my own damn self."

"Holy shit," Hikaru breathes, openly in awe. "Oh my god, you should probably sit down. Wow." She pulls him by the elbow and guides him back into the living room, where they've at least managed to get a suitable chair in place.

"Didn't I just finish saying that messing up your face wouldn't help us much?" Or so he says, but if he's honest, the river of blood staining Fai's only shirt certainly can’t _hurt_ their case. Fai picks up one bloody palm to wave dismissively at him, as if he could bat the words away.

"I know my brother," he mumbles, voice increasingly obscured and more and more distant. "Show me off, tired, injured and looking stubbornly at the camera, and you'll scare him. No question.”

"If you say so,” Kurogane concedes with a shrug. “It's your nose." Fai tries to laugh at his glib declaration, only to spatter blood between his fingers and forward in a disgusting spray....whatever. It's atmosphere, right? Hikaru leaps to the side, artfully dodging the airborne cloud of red with an expression of alarm.

"Oh, ow. Nope- no laughing. Not doing that again."

“Tilt your head back while we get this set up, moron.” Honestly, he wants to hurry and set the damn thing right away, but that’d make the idiot’s sacrifice less effective. _Fai broke his own fucking nose_ in the hopes it might get his brother out of this business. Shit, that kind of dedication is as terrifying as it is stupid.

Fai doesn’t interact with them much as they bustle about him, pulling the shot together. Hikaru finds long, thin loops of climbing rope stashed away in a closet and passes it to Kurogane before she bounces away to find the laptop. He takes it, leans down, and binds Fai, as if he really were a hostage and not their pseudo-accomplice.

“Tying me up again, Kuro-kinky? We haven’t even gone on our second date yet,” the blond tries to tease. The volume of blood down his front and the distant, barely conscious edge in his voice render his attempt somewhat weak. Kurogane’s starting to believe the guy just uses flirting as a coping mechanism.

“Haven’t gone on our _first_ date,” he corrects, finishing up Fai’s ankles with a tight knot, slipped slowly into place. He circles behind the chair, already moving to secure his wrists. The faster they finish up, the faster he can set the idiot’s nose and clean up. Something about seeing Fai injured irks him... Maybe he’s going soft.

“Is that an offer?”

He pauses, glances up to see Fai’s head tilted back, too-blue eyes focused on him. Woozy with pain or no, the blond is absolutely serious.

Well, that’s… um.

A bad idea? A _phenomenally_ bad idea. _No_ , he thinks to himself, _no way_.

“You don’t want to date me,” he blurts instead.

“Why not?” the fool muses, blinking dazedly down at him, “You’re interesting.”

“Fai, you just broke your own nose to try to push your twin away from all this, but this is my _life_. You don’t want me.” He doesn’t know why he’s arguing. He should just turn Fai down. ‘ _No,_ ’ is all he has to say. He doesn’t owe any explanation—no obligations, but—

“You and Yuui aren’t really the same at all, you know? He lies, keeps me out of everything... I never know what’s going on with him until he comes home with his damn eye gouged out. You don’t shut me out like he does.” What little of Fai’s expression Kurogane can see shifts from distant interest to vaguely murderous as he speaks. He has to pause to reign himself back in. “Besides, I have a feeling your reasons for staying with this… Yuuko lady are different than his reasons for sticking with Celes.”

Okay, now Kurogane’s _curious_. He stores it all away—more information to try to piece the twins lives together. (He doesn’t know why the hell he cares.)

“So it really doesn’t bother you that I kill people for a living?” he presses bluntly instead. He doesn’t plan to sugar any part of it up. It’s his _life_.

“Hmm… anyone I know?” Fai appears oblivious to Kurogane’s mounting disbelief. “Honestly? I’m not sure yet. The jury’s still out. But I do know you’re the kind of person I might like to grab a cup of coffee with, Kuro-doki.”

The assassin tears his gaze away, his face scarlet. It’s _mind blowing_ , all the ways that this is a fantastically bad idea. Why the fuck is the guy he kidnapped and planned to torture asking him for a coffee date in his living room with his nose bent unnaturally to one side and blood still streaming down his face? And why the hell hasn’t Kurogane just said _no yet already_?!

“Look, if all this blows through and I get what I want… if we’re both still alive on the other end, and you’re still insane enough to want to meet up, then _maybe—”_

“Sensei, do you remember the name of the site you can use to send texts from PC?” Hikaru’s chipper voice saves him from a monumental mistake as she wanders back into the room, laptop in hand. He shakes his head to clear his own stupidity away, fingers flying to finish off the last knot with a rough tug.

“Google it,” he bites, not certain himself. She hums in assent and plops down to the floor to fiddle with the keyboard. Kurogane checks the bindings one last time before he stands, glances back at Fai to find the man pouting up at him.

“I’m holding you to the end of that sentence, Kuro-chan,” he threatens, “whether you say it out loud or not.” Great. How is this Kurogane’s life?

Menacing future coffee dates aside, the rest of the process goes smoothly. With wifi and GPS disabled, they use the burner phone to snap low-quality images. Then, they upload each one to a specially secured laptop, ping the ISP through a VPN somewhere in the Netherlands, and send the finished product to Yuui’s number through a web-to-text service.

Kurogane has to admit… Fai’s busted face and the bowed line of his shoulders make for a worrisome sight. By the time they start shooting pictures, Fai’s eyes have already started to blacken and he looks _properly_ roughed up. Kurogane simply completes the image, standing by his side, holding Yuui’s knife just for added affect. He lets the edge hover dangerously close to Fai’s left eye.

_Twins should match, don’t you think?_

_Leave Celes, or he’ll lose the eye._

“Ah! This looks so terrifying! Great work, Sensei! Fai!” Hikaru cheers as she finishes typing and hits ‘ _send._ ’

“Awesome,” Fai groans, “I’m going to pass out now.”

“Oh no you don’t!” Kurogane finishes unknotting the mess of cable just in time to watch his houseguest tip forward. He scrambles to catch the idiot by the shoulders. “Hey! You’re going to walk yourself to the bathroom and let me set that damn thing. You can pass out _after_ you’re cleaned up.”

“So mean, Kuro-sensei,” Fai whines, but he obeys. He pulls himself weakly to his feet, left hand cupped protectively over his face. Kurogane watches him stumble to the bathroom and wonders how he’s ever going to get the place clean again. Fai tracked blood from kitchen to living room when they’d moved him earlier, and he’s probably still dripping his way to the bathroom.

He turns exhaustedly to his apprentice,

“Hikaru, could you—"

“Don’t worry, I don’t mind wiping up the mess,” she interrupts with a sunny grin. Her deft fingers power the laptop down and fold it shut, setting it aside for later. “We can train after though, right? My ankle’s about healed up.”

“Yeah, we can do that. Just push the couches to the wall when you’re done.”

He grabs a bag of frozen vegetables form the freezer before he follows Fai’s trail to the bathroom. The dumbass himself is slumped miserably on the shower floor. He cuts a pitiful sight, but he did this to himself! Kurogane shouldn’t feel sorry for him. He shouldn’t…

“You want alcohol first or something? It’s going to hurt.” He shouldn’t, but he does. A little bit.

“No, I’ll live,” Fai chuckles weakly. At least by this point the blood has slowed enough that he doesn’t spray the whole shower when he laughs. “Just get it over with quickly? I wanna hurry up and black out already.” Kurogane offers a gruff noise of agreement. He studies the break, trying to determine the best way to set it, but there’s almost too much bruising by this point to tell. He thinks briefly of calling Kudou, but… it wouldn’t be a good move to involve the man further. He’ll just have to hope for the best.

“Get this shirt off first. You’ll probably bleed fresh when it sets, and this thing’s already stained enough,” he grouches.

He expects a glib comment about Kurogane just wanting to see his captive strip, but the man must simply be too weary. Fai nods and fights his hands back through the sleeves easily. However, he struggles to free his head from the neck of his pullover without brushing against his wounded face.

“Here,” Kurogane offers, stretching the neckline out and holding the bunched fabric carefully away from Fai’s nose until the blood-soaked thing comes free. He tosses it to the shower floor with disdain. “You’re damn lucky I know how to set a broken nose. What were you going to do if I didn’t?”

“I had a feeling you could do it. Didn’t have much of a plan for if I was wrong though.” Fai shrugs. He sits there, shirtless and miserable, looking ready to teeter forward and pass out at any second. “Guess at heart, I’m still a gambler, huh Kuro-wan.”

“Still?”

“Oh, didn’t you know? Yuui’s not the only one of us who ever worked as a dealer,” he grins. “Doesn’t matter a whole lot now though.”

“No, guess not.” Kurogane agrees, but inwardly his thoughts race. How recently had Fai worked there and why? And why had he left? Did he have any extra information on Ashura? Why hadn’t Yuuko known about him? He wants to ask _everything_ , but he knows now isn’t the time for it. “Alright, sit still. And try not to bleed on me, will you? I just showered.”

“I’ll do my best,” Fai laughs, wincing as Kurogane prods the break and tries to determine the shape of it.

“You did a fucking number on yourself, moron.” Honestly, it could be worse, but not by much. Kurogane wonders if he’ll still be able to breathe as easy later on. Probably not. He reaches for the space beside the door and snags a towel. Who knew his idiot hostage would make so much laundry? “Blow,” he commands, holding the thick towel towards his guest. Fai does as he’s told, cringing with the motion. Kurogane tries to tell himself it serves the guy right for pulling shit like this, but he likes the sight of Fai in pain less and less.

He finds the position he wants, one hand on either side of the break, his fingertips steepled at the very bridge. “I’m going to set it on three, got it?” and Fai nods.

(He sets it on two, really. But he thinks maybe Fai expected that)

He doesn’t do a bad job, all things considered, but Fai nearly loses consciousness when the bone wrenches back into place. Kurogane has to scramble to catch him before he hits the floor and bangs his face all over again. His fingers brush the bare skin of shoulders and back, catching on the rough texture of those mysterious scars.

“Shit. Sorry. Guess I’m bleeding on you after all.” Fai tries to push himself back, breathing heavy, eyes closed through the dizzying pain he must feel.

“It’s fine,” Kurogane replies without thinking. So it’s another shirt he needs to trash or bleach or whatever. He’s racking up a pile of them this week, apparently. Maybe he’ll put it on Yuui’s tab; after the suit he’s already lost. All of this is in service of the goddamn threat they’d sent to Celes's blond dealer anyway.

_This had better be fucking worth it_ , he thinks with no small annoyance as he watches Fai try to find his bearings. If that dick goes back to the Celes after this, he’s going to kick his ass all over again and land him in the hospital for _real_ this time.

 

* * *

 

Yuui doesn’t head into his gambling hall the next day.

He does something worse.

“Kurogane, darling,” Yuuko wheedles over the phone, and he feels his heart plummet. If she takes that sugar-sweet tone, nothing good is about to happen. “The strangest thing happened today. A certain tall, blond knife-wielder tried to break into the complex. Would you mind coming by and explaining just what on earth has happened with the Celes?”

_Fantastic_ , he thinks to himself with as much sarcastic venom as he can muster. Heaving a deep sigh, he pulls himself together and goes.


	5. Renegotiation (Part 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! chapter 5 wound up a good deal longer than I thought, so I'm just gonna go ahead and break it in half. Hopefully ya'll don't mind too much! Though it does mean this chapter has a higher proportion of talkiness. 
> 
> Talkiness. I'm goin for it. It's a word now. 
> 
> Anyway, let me know what you think. Unbeta'd at the moment, so if you see a wild error, feel free to drop a note.

 

* * *

 

 

"I want to meet him," Yuuko insists obstinately, almost before he can even finish explaining the current situation, or why Yuui might be desperate enough to try taking on Yuuko's security team in the dead of night. She wants to meet Fai. Of _course_ she does. Both of them annoy the hell out of him whenever they can. If they ever wind up in the same room together, Kurogane's certain he'll never see another moment of peace.

"You'll have to wait. I bring him over now, and the Celes'll catch on for sure."

"So I'll go visit your apartment then." She's lost her mind.

"You're under house arrest," he reminds her, blank-faced. She waves his answer away with a flick of her wrist and stands, puttering around the room to look for her coat.

"No one has to know. And besides, if I couldn't bribe someone to look the other way once or twice, I wouldn't be very good at my job, now would I?" She's going to give him a coronary acting the way she does, Kurogane thinks. He can already feel a headache brewing and it’s barely past morning.

"Is this really worth wasting one of those bribes on? Besides, if you don't think the Celes will take notice when you head out.... No! No, this is still a terrible idea, and you can _wait_." She pins him with her cat-eyed stare, fingers finding her coat smashed behind her favorite chair. She shakes it out and shoves it toward him with a flourish.

"Help me with my coat, dear?" It isn't a request. Her tone drips with poison and the promise of something nasty later if he doesn't obey.

Whatever. If this goes south, it's her own damn fault. He holds the thing open for her to slip her arms down the sleeves.

"You'll gather a lot of attention when I wind up having to wipe out the Celes's whole staff to keep you safe, you know," he can't resist griping, even if he knows he's already lost. Yuuko rolls her eyes at him, adjusting her long, expensive coat to her liking. She buttons the front and smooths out the wrinkles before she extends one hand, eyebrow raised in expectation.

He rolls his eyes, but holds his arm out for her to loop her wrist through all the same.

"You're far too over-dramatic, Kurogane darling," she muses. "We won't leave through the front. No one needs to see a thing!" She digs her fingers into the soft flesh at the crook of his elbow and guides him forward at a marching pace.

 

* * *

 

She takes him to a secret door.

Kurogane lived in this house for a good seven years at least. He feels like he has a half-decent understanding of the layout, and he knows ten or so different emergency exits and smuggling compartments. He did _not_ know about this one. The door she leads him toward is a slide-away wall hidden in Yuuko's bedroom shower, of all places. Through it, any ambitious escapee could step down a long, narrow ladder into an old waterway.

"Not a sewer." Yuuko explains, "or, not any more. When the house was built, I had the bathroom installed with the manhole intact, then arranged for this branch of the water treatment tunnels to go conveniently forgotten. It was only a diversionary route for overflow, rainwater mostly, but I still prefer a dry escape route, don't you?"

"Hm." He doesn't know what to say to her. He still maintains that she shouldn’t leave the compound, but he must admit her little underground passage makes him significantly less worried about any spies following them home.

On the other hand, the longer they walk… He likes to think he has a decent handle on this area and its layout. Even without seeing the streets above, he knows how long they’ve been walking and he has a good sense of direction. With each step he grows more and more suspicious that they’re inching toward—

“Ah! Here we are. Kurogane, be a dear and twist that manhole out of the way, will you?” He does as she bids, with a sinking feeling in his chest that he knows _exactly_ where they are. And certainly enough, when he moves the metal cover aside and lifts himself above ground, he recognizes the interior of the utility shed behind his apartment building. “Help me up?” Yuuko simpers. Kurogane turns back toward her and lowers a hand with a suspicious glower.

“Really.” He deadpans, motioning to their surroundings with his free hand as his boss climbs. Yuuko tuts at him.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she chides, patting her skirts down and knocking any clinging grime free. The waterway had indeed been dry, but still quite dusty. “I hardly have the time to spy on you, Kurogane. Besides, you’re not very interesting.” He rolls his eyes, placing the manhole cover back without her prompting. He supposes it makes more sense now that she’d placed himself and Hikaru here, in any case. He’d always assumed she just had an arrangement with the landlord, but easy access in an emergency also made sense.

The fact that she’d never bothered to let him _in_ on this particular method of access strikes him as suspicious, however.

“Come on, we haven’t got all day. Watanuki will start looking for me in an hour or so.”

_You could have told him where we were going_ , he thinks poisonously, but then again with Watanuki’s shrieking habits perhaps she couldn’t have. He sighs deeply and looks carefully through the shed window, making sure they have no watchers before he opens the door. Yuuko bows out gracefully ahead of him and steps her way to the back door of the apartment complex with a suspicious familiarity.

They make it up the stairwell with no further antics. He digs the key out, inching it toward the lock and—Yuuko’s fingers still his wrist.

“Wait,” she hisses, leaning forward to listen to the muffled voices of Hikaru and Fai beyond the door. Kurogane’s eyes narrow. If she wants to prove she doesn’t spy on him, this little act provides rather poor evidence.

Not that he really believes her denial anyway.

“...kind of can’t believe it didn’t work,” he can barely make out Hikaru’s melodic lilt. She must be sitting on the living room couch closest the door. They’d never hear her from here otherwise. “If someone showed a picture of one of my brothers like that to me… well, I’d back down. Do you two not get along or something?”  Fai laughs, but the sound rings bitter—a laugh of _pain_ , and not humor at all. It disquiets Kurogane to hear. He doesn’t like it. He reaches out to try to open the door again, but Yuuko slaps him this time, nearly knocking his keys to the floor. He half-hopes Hikaru will hear their jangling, but the sound must ring soft enough she doesn’t notice.  Damnit.

“It’s the opposite problem.” Fai sounds tired and annoyed. Kurogane imagines he hadn’t slept well with the pain of his battered nose. The bruising on his face looked awful today and must feel worse. “I’ve gone and made him desperate. He thinks he has to find me now, whatever the cost. Should have realized he would, honestly…” Fai’s self-deprecation tugs at something in his chest and Kurogane’s building frown deepens. He looks pointedly at Yuuko, tilting his head toward the door. He hates this. He wants to move _on_ already. She huffs in an obvious denial.

“I guess I just don’t get it! If he wanted to keep you safe, all he has to do is stay home for a few nights. How is storming the boss’s place less dangerous than that?”  
  
“That’s—” Fai starts, stops. Kurogane latches on to the sound of his voice, finds himself shamefully straining to hear. “He works at the Celes because of me too,” the blond manages to say after just a beat too long. A story lingers behind the words. Something old and heavy, but Fai’s tone brooks no questions and Hikaru’s not nosy enough to push.

Secretly, deep down, Kurogane wishes she would. The twins _interest_ him. They’re first thing in this damn city to turn his head in years, the first thing outside of Yuuko and the family that he’s bothered to care about since—since his parents died, honestly.

Fai makes no sense—so determined to pry his brother from the underworld he’ll physically maim himself, but willing enough to dip into the shadows. If his admission last night can be believed, he served as a former dealer of Ashura’s, but somehow left the position without a tattoo or a record to show for it. Deep scars and bright smiles and no fucking fear.

Yuui presents just as much of an enigma, from what little Kurogane can gather. He doesn’t leave a trace of an identity in the system, despite the fact that his twin keeps a very solid one. He plays neighborhood politics and blindsided Yuuko’s information network with his coffee shop friends, fights well enough give Kurogane a run for his money, but somehow kept a low profile until now. For heaven’s sake, the man had stupidly thought storming Yuuko’s complex _while injured_ his only recourse and e _scaped_ the attempt.

The both of them are impossible. Distracting. Kurogane burns to pry the secrets free, but just… not like this. Not with his ear pressed to the door like a nosy child.

“I thought if he believed I was in more danger here, he would re-prioritize and come to his senses. His reasons for working there are—It’s stupid. He doesn’t need to be there anymore, but he won’t listen," Fai tries again, his defeated tone sliding toward righteous annoyance. Kurogane hears all the frustration of an old argument in his words.

“ _Now?”_  He mouths at Yuuko. She tilts her head, finger pressed to her lips.  

“So then… the problem is he still thinks that whatever happens if he stops working will hurt worse than whatever we could do to you, right?” Hikaru reasons.

“Seems like it.” The two think together in silence. Kurogane taps his foot impatiently, watching Yuuko slowly grow bored. He might work for her, but if she doesn’t let him open his damn door—

“How attached are you to your little finger, really?” Hikaru wonders aloud, and Kurogane looks heavenward at her antics. She’s a very intense person, so of course she'd offer something like that as a solution. Luckily, Fai has a little more sense. He waits to hear Fai laugh the question off, but—

Silence reigns.

Is he _actually_ thinking about—

Nope. No. He remembers with a sudden, striking clarity how Fai had broken his nose without a second thought. He can't let this conversation continue even a moment longer.

He reaches out and knocks on the door in a pattern Hikaru will recognize before Yuuko can stop him.

“No!” She hisses, but it’s too late. His apprentice rushes the door with her sword at her side in record time. Yuuko shoots him the sort of look that promises impending retribution for ruining her fun, but he’s reconciled himself to that possibility.

"Oh! Boss!" Hikaru chirps, clearly confused. "Um. Is it really okay for you to be here?"

"No," Kurogane deadpans before she can respond, "but here we are."  Yuuko swats him in the arm for his cheek, thankfully avoiding the limb still threaded with stitches. She sweeps her way into his apartment dramatically, bustling toward the couches where he can just see Fai.

"Kurogane-sensei, what...?" He and Hikaru watch their boss make her own boisterous introduction, fussing over Fai’s bruised face briefly and taking the opportunity to disparage Kurogane's "Brutish hospitality."

"No idea," Kurogane answers truthfully, headache already pounding away at the back of his skull.

"Kurogane! Stop being a terrible host and get over here. You need to introduce me properly to this nice young man," Yuuko demands. Kurogane stares at her. Watches the pleased look on Fai's face. He knew those two should never meet. He will never have a moment’s rest from this day forward. He's doomed.

"Good luck." Hikaru pats him conspiratorially on the back as she whispers, slipping away to hide in his room and sleep her shift. Kurogane allows himself one last moment to lament the peace and quiet before he steps forward.

 

* * *

 

Of course, Yuuko and Fai get along like a house on fire, but he supposes he expected little else.

She and Fai chatter about Fai’s college classes and how worried he is about his small army of house plants while Kurogane leans against the wall and tries to ignore the headache still mounting at the back of his skull. He doesn’t understand why she felt the burning need to meet Fai immediately, but he hasn’t worked for her this long without realizing she rarely does _anything_ without reason. She might want to appear as though this whole visit resulted from a whim, but Yuuko knows better than anyone how to play an audience. She’ll wait until she lulls Fai into a more comfortable position to start sounding like her real, devious self again.

“Kurogane, don’t you have something to drink?” She pouts, sending him to the kitchen to scrounge for the last of his sake supply with a roll of his eyes. His supposed hostage laughs aloud at the way Yuuko orders him around, and Kurogane just _knows_ that guy plans to hold this over him later. Damn it.

“You want anything, Fai?” He grouches, slamming a sake glass down on the counter with more force than necessary.

“Just water, please. Unfortunately, my brother’s tolerance for drink is one thing we don’t share,” Kurogane shrugs, pulls down two water glasses instead. Yuuko’s sake pours easy and smooth, and he finds himself a little jealous he can’t just drink alongside her. It’s _his_ sake, damnit,

“Your brother… Yuui, right?” He hears that devilish, assured tone edging back into her voice and freezes with the ice-tray in hand, poised to empty into a water glass. Something’s off, and he swiftly realizes what; he never told her Blondie’s name.

“Oh, so you’ve heard of him?” Fai muses, and Kurogane can feel the heavy weight of that stare. He’d told Yuuko about his encounters with Yuui, but nothing else. Whatever she knows, she learned on her own.

“His reputation precedes him! Ashura’s man—so mysterious! Better at fixing a game than any cardshark in Tokyo. Though… if I’d known about _you_ sooner I might have recognized the missing Valeria twins.”

Ice clinks into a glass, breaking the dead silence that falls over the apartment. From the kitchen, Kurogane can still see Fai’s expression. He catches a glimpse of the same utter _fury_ he’d seen last night flitting behind still-smiling eyes.

“I’d much rather you hadn’t,” Fai visibly forces himself back into some semblance of control before he answers. His smile never wavers, but the depth of the anger Kurogane can sense bubbling beneath it sets him immediately on edge. He begins to worry whether he hadn’t completely misjudged Fai after all—whether he might not be so painfully civilian as he and Hikaru believed—

Yuuko laughs, long and loud. “I’m sure I could be convinced to forget!”

“How much.” Fai bites, absolutely livid. Kurogane edges toward them with the drinks, wondering whether he’ll need to step in and block Fai’s path to Yuuko bodily.

“Nothing at all,” she crows, clearly enjoying herself. Fai and Kurogane share the same moment of shock, their eyes meeting across the room. Yuuko is a blackmail _artist_ , and no act of “forgetfulness” ever came without price. She sighs at their open disbelief. “Consider it a favor to your mother, if you must. I was rather fond of her. Never did like your uncle very much though, if you don’t mind me saying so. Nasty little man. I wasn’t very sorry to see him dead.”

"No one was." Fai tells her. His anger eases back into its place, hidden behind the veiled mask of a smile he wears too easily. Wariness lingers in his eyes now though, old hurt and mistrust. Kurogane doesn’t think he likes the look. 

“Well, that explains one mystery at least. I’d wondered what happened to the two of you for years. I still don’t understand how Ashura came by your custody.”

…

Kurogane blinks, nearly drops the glasses he’s balancing. _Custody_? But that would mean—

'The same way our uncle lost it." Fai retorts with humor, but his dark demeanor stays. Shit. That makes far too much sense. Had Ashura taken them in, as Yuuko did for him…? His mind reels, scrambling to make sense of this new information. Fai doesn’t know why he wants Yuui to step down. If he _knew_ — “You’ll forgive me, Ichihara-taichou, but It’s not something I have any wish to discuss.”

“Please, call me Yuuko,” she tries to charm. Fai’s smile widens, and he grants her a tilt of his head, but it all seems practiced now.

Kurogane finally takes his cue to sets the trio of glasses down on the coffee table. Only Yuuko moves to take a sip. She lets them stew in the silence, staring at her as she enjoys her drink.

“Well.” The air in the room feels tense enough to cut by the time Yuuko finishes her cup and sets it back in place. “this complicates things a little, doesn’t it Kurogane?”

His frown deepens, headache worsening. Does she mean to tell him…?

“Yuuko—” he warns, to no avail. That damn, evil grin splits her face.

“Ashura owes me a price in blood," She admits freely. Kurogane bites the inside of his cheek, tense with anticipation. Yuuko is neither naive, nor trusting. If she easily admits to plotting the man's death in front of his hostage she must have a reason. He simply has no idea what it might be.

"You--" Fai stutters, "You want to kill Ashura? _That's_ why you need Yuui out of the way?"

"I trust that's not a problem for you?" She says it more as a statement than a question. Kurogane's pulse races as he watches Fai frown. If he loses his cooperative hostage to Yuuko’s information gathering antics, he'll—well, he certainly won’t be happy about it. Damn Yuuko for being so chatty anyway. Of _course_ the guy has reservations over the thought of killing his damn foster father. He's--

"Why now?" Fai asks, tone threaded with barely concealed anger. This is it, Kurogane thinks, this is the end of their pleasant relationship. Damnit. "You could have gone after him _years_ ago. You could have—"

...wait, what?

“I know, and for that I am sorry. I wanted to find the two of you when the old man died. I failed you then. I thought you had been lost, but if I’d known—”

Obviously, there's more going on here than Kurogane understands. He tries to bite back his assumptions, slots it all into the jigsaw puzzle he’s building in his head.

“If I’d known then, I would tell you what I tell you now. Ashura owes me a life, and I plan to collect. When he falls, you have my protection. Is this amenable, Fai Fluorite?” Fai holds his silence, his smile still as stone on his face. His eyes drift away, staring at the glass of water set before him on the coffee table. They watch in tandem as a bead of condensation trails its surface downward. 

“If I agree,” he begins, voice uneven. He doesn’t lift his gaze to meet Yuuko’s. “You’ll help me convince Yuui to leave? And with Ashura gone, you’ll extend that protection to him.”

“Of course,” Yuuko accepts the terms without a second thought, and the tense line of Fai’s shoulders eases. He reaches for his glass, raising it in Yuuko’s direction. He draws the whole thing down before replacing it on the table.

“In that case, I’ll do you one better. Pull Yuui away for good, and I’ll hand you Ashura myself.”

Kurogane’s eyes narrow, his measure of Fai’s character transforming once again. That sense of danger and malice seems obvious when he looks at Yuui, less so behind Fai’s sunny smiles. Still, the same edge, hard and sharp, shines true in every word. Fai wants Ashura dead just as much as Yuuko, of that Kurogane holds no further doubts.

“Poor Kurogane!” Yuuko teases, back to her usual smirking self. “You’ll put him out of a job!”

“Hmm,” Fai agrees, “Well, maybe he’ll at least agree to take me along, this once?”

“You’ll have to argue that with him, I’m afraid.” Fai slides him a glance, and Kurogane frowns. Far be it from him to deny anyone revenge, but he doesn’t like the thought of Fai slowing him down. Unless he’s hiding some kind of combat and stealth prowess under all that hapless charm, he won’t be much use at the Celes. “Either way, there’s the matter of Yuui to deal with first, isn’t there?”

 

* * *

 

Kurogane escorts his boss back through the passage to her home and makes his return with little fanfare. He doesn’t know if he should continue trusting Fai or not, but Yuuko tells him not to wake Hikaru when they leave, so… the decision is out of his hands. He only hopes Yuuko’s understanding of Fai is the right one. 

He walks through the front door to his apartment annoyed to find that the smell of pipe smoke lingers. Fai had forever won Yuuko’s love by pulling the fire alarms off the wall so she could entertain her favorite vice. Now the silenced devices litter the coffee table alongside their empty glasses. Despite his apprehension, He finds Fai exactly in the place Kurogane left him, draped over the couch.

Maybe he doesn’t need to worry after all…

“You’re back!” The blond observes, but his words lack any real energy. He holds his hand cupped over his eyes, head tilted back as if he shares Kurogane’s headache. “So. Nice to meet your boss.”

His mouth quirks into a begrudging smile without his permission. Kurogane dumps his coat and shoes at the door.

“She likes you.”  Fai grants him a tired laugh, sinking further into the couch. Kurogane takes one look at his posture and the bruises still painting his skin and sees the picture of exhaustion. He wonders just how many of Fai’s demons Yuuko dredged up with little her press for information—wonders it was worth making someone so full of energy seem so low…

Well. He doesn’t know much about that, and it’s not really his place to care. He _does_ know there’s still an open bottle of sake in his kitchen though. This seems like the best time to put it to use. “You sure you don’t want anything to drink?” He offers, snatching the empty cups from the table and moving back to the counter. Fai’s blue eyes peer at him between his fingers before he lets the hand fall.

“You know, I think this morning has convinced me. I will have a glass. Or three.”

Fai remains uncharacteristically silent until they've both downed the first round. Kurogane's pouring him a second, eyeing his dwindling supply with disappointment when the blond finally speaks.

"You could have told me you knew about the old man." At first, he has no idea what his guest means, but he thinks of Yuuko’s revelations and the uncle she’d mentioned. He raises a brow.

"If you're referring to whatever the heck Yuuko said, I didn't know a thing. All of that was just as much news to me as you."

Fai pins him with a narow-eyed stare, trying to determine whether he speaks truth. Kurogane doesn’t know what he hopes to find. He nearly jumps from his chair when the blond finally tilts his head back and laughs.

"So it was coincidence after all, then!" he chortles, "you only came after us to get to Ashura, and didn't have a clue she'd been looking for us?"

"Sounds like it," Kurogane muses. He takes another sip of his drink, glancing toward the shaded window. He wishes he could risk pulling the blinds aside to look at the sky outside. It's not really the right time of day to drink sake and wax poetic, but he could have done with the relaxation.

Fai watches, waiting for Kurogane to ask about the whole thing.

Kurogane doesn't.

He wants to know. Really, he does, but... it doesn't matter in the long run. Clearly, talking about his past bothers Fai, and he sees no reason to make the man more uncomfortable.

"Well, the short of it is..." Fai tries when the silence reigns for too long. He cuts himself off with a grimace and silences himself with his drink. Kurogane takes mercy on his miserable expression.

"Your past isn't really my business. I'm more worried about the present." Fai shoots him a look of shock before his mouth yields a grateful smile.

"The present?" He tilts his glass sideways and watches the way the liquid sloshes. "You mean Ashura," Fai reasons, eyes growing distant. He stares for a moment or two, before he throws the remainder of his drink back with a flourish and slams the glass back down against the counter. Kurogane simply watches and files every word and reaction away to think over later. “Why does she want him dead?” Fury and distrust take a backseat to obvious exhaustion as Fai mulls the question aloud.

The sake bottle feels too light in his hands when Kurogane pours the last cup out for his companion. He eyes it with only a little disappointment and sets the thing aside.

“He stepped over a line somewhere. Killed the wrong person. Who knows. I don’t ask.” Well, he knows a little more than that, but he’s not sure he should share. “Why do _you_ want him dead?”

Fai scoffs, leaning toward his cup in a way that belies his swiftly decreasing coordination. He certainly hadn’t lied when he’d mentioned a low tolerance.

“You’ve seen Yuui’s eye, haven’t you? Or rather, I guess you _haven’t_ seen it, more precisely.”

The assassin can only blink in surprise. Maybe the sake has started to affect him too, but this makes _no_ sense. Why would Yuui still _work_  for the bastard if he lost an eye to him? Maybe he’d simply fallen victim to an accident at work? Or— Fai laughs giddily at his disbelief.

“You know what they say, Kuro-shi. An eye for an Eye.” The blond spares him a vicious, tipsy grin and downs the last of their shared sake without bothering to savor it at all. Kurogane watches, distantly mourning good sake and wondering whether he’ll ever understand anything at all.

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kind of headcannon that one of the reasons Fai(Yuui) got so drunk in Outo was because he was pretending to be Fai, and RealFai was a horrendous lightweight. 
> 
> Also: Fai is hillarious. Koroshi means murderer in Japanese, hence why Kuro-shi is one of his favorite nicknames in this AU.


End file.
